Beach Day With James And Lars And Friends

beach day with james and lars and friends <3

james, lars and dime <3

Leap Of Faith ✩ James Hetfield (18+)

Trepidation seems to add weight to your already boot-laden legs as you slowly make your way through the long line in front of the now crowded venue, the heaviness of anxiety in your chest making you want to retreat with every decelerate inch you trudge forward. The sounds of yelling and the feeling of unknown shoulders and elbows digging their way into your upper and lower back would usually make you feel unsettled and unsafe, but in this instance, it was the complete opposite. It made you feel less alone and more accompanied, and you didn't realize how much you needed the unspecified consolation until you eventually make your way into the cooling air of the quickly filling up concert arena.

You blearily squint as you trek your way past the double doors and clearly overworked staff members, the cowboy hat nestled on the top of your head seemingly now only becoming useful once you fully get inside, the earlier sun still feeling like it's searing its imprint into the bare and now sunburnt skin of your neck and shoulders.

The anticipation from the dozens of thousands of fans around you fill the already heady air and make it feel almost thickened and condensed as you nearly stumble forward in haste for a good spot, hoping to be on an outer side of the crowd in case you needed to make a break for it or hide. You let out a sigh of relief once you see a small pocket of empty space near the edge of the barrier nearest to the front stage steps, and you rapidly duck under a multitude of raised limbs to shuffle over to the limited clearance.

You toss a halfhearted and much too quiet apology over your shoulder as you narrowly miss colliding with an already heavily inebriated fan and lift your perspired hands to encircle them around the cool metal in front of you. You lean your hipbones against the lower part of the barrier to help steady yourself as a thick wave of bombarding and impatient devotees rush their way forward, as the lights on the stage begin to dim and background music begins to play.

Excitement and dread thrum through you and almost mimic the rhythm of the beat booming out of the side speakers, and for a moment, you almost curse yourself for being foolish enough to make your way all the way out here- a handful of towns over to see a group of old friends that most likely won't be able to pick you out of the crowd or care enough to acknowledge you from it. But at the same time, you didn't want to be seen. A good majority of you just wanted to ease the worry in you by seeing them in person, just this once to see if they were actually okay. The juxtaposition of being too afraid to reach out after all that had happened, and yet being brave enough to make the ignorant leap of faith to come and see them live grates through you, and you miss the telltale screams of the fans greeting the members as they make their way out on stage while you're grappling with your thoughts.

You only begin to look up at the stage from the solid ground beneath you once you hear the background music stop, and a familiar voice encapsulate and envelop the attention of not only you, but the thousands of other strangers around you. Your breath is taken away from you once you're able to readjust your eyesight to the bright and automatic lights moving around the center stage, the members closest to you looking so much healthier and better off than when you saw them last. Relief floods through you in an instant, nearly knocking away all of the regret of you coming out here straight away.

Lars beams from his drum set that's located near the back of the stage, and the large smile he wears on his face makes your heart clench in your chest with elation. The last time you had seen him, he was crying in your arms and hesitating to get onto the newer and bigger tour bus that was awaiting him. The words he screams into the microphone as he waves his drumsticks up and around in the air don't seem to fully register with you, as your eyes slide on over to Kirk. Kirk's eyes are wide and all-encompassing as they scour the large and lively arena, gratefulness painted on his facial features as he clutches onto the instrument in his hands. You get a flashback of the two of you lying out on your old rickety couch together and gushing about shared dreams of getting out of town and doing your own things, and a warm flush of pride alights within you as you see how far he has come and how much he's already accomplished. Jason grins out at the crowd, his expression a bit more sheepish and reserved, but still beaming and full of joyous glee. You hadn't known him for very long or spoken to him much before everything had fallen apart and ended, but you knew he was kind and that he worked his ass off to get to where he was today. They all had.

Your eyes seem to shudder to a stop before they could even peer over at the frontman who you used to be closest with. As if the simple sight of seeing him in real life instead of on the front cover of a magazine would crumble you- and your assumption was correct. As soon as you allow yourself to look over at him, an uncomfortable twinge in your middle ricochets and launches against your ribcage as your eyes rest upon him, and you have to forcefully inhale a rough breath to stop yourself from crying on the spot. James still looks the same, except a few years older and with facial hair. But you could recognize those eyes in any crowd and at any given moment. The same eyes that had originally stared through you and asked if you were alright almost six years ago, that fated and drunken night you two had stumbled into each other. Back when Metallica barely even had its name, and they were living in an apartment that was about as stable as a cardboard box in the wind. The same eyes that would crinkle up on the sides when you made him laugh hard enough and took him out to temporarily get away from all of the bullshit life had to offer at the time, with the other boys included and sometimes tagging along. The same eyes that begged you to come with them that day, paired along with the same mouth that never verbally asked you to. You glance away to look at the spot Cliff would usually stand at during the beginning of shows, and you have to close your eyes to steady yourself and push those debilitating thoughts away. He was at peace now, and you were still trying to figure out how to find your own with the loss. You could still hear his soft laughter and high rants and smell his all-surrounding cigarette and herb smoke. He was such a force to be reckoned with. He still is, to you at the very least, and he always will be.

"Are you ready to fucking rock?" James screams into the microphone before him, and the sound of his voice makes you jolt and recenter. You couldn't help but let out a small huff of laughter as the other boys recant the question and scream out their own answers, before immediately jumping into their first song like it was second nature. You watch them with rapt attention, your eyes flickering from each musician on stage, and you felt a familiar sting behind your eyelids as you watched them go. The feeling of bittersweetness is trampled on by an immense proudness, and the dread you felt earlier on soon begins to feel like the excitement that surrounds you. Before you could even wrap your head around it and second guess things, you were jumping with the rest of the crowd, the nape of your neck cracking out a protest as you headbanged in tandem with the men on stage and their fellow fans.

The ground beneath you vibrated and shook you to the core as you bounced up and down, the cowboy hat and elastic in your hair sliding out and off and landing elsewhere as you sang along, your hair landing messily on your reddened and sensitive skin whenever your feet hit the ground. The hands you had wrapped around the barrier in front of you raise and bop with the cacophony of beats ramming their way out of the ginormous speakers around the venue, and you laugh aimlessly as you imitate the drum solo Lars was currently breezing through without missing a single beat.

James' voice reverberates and creates a rough and harmonic sound that feels like it carries everyone's weight in the room, and you couldn't help but attach your gaze to him and hold onto it as he grips the microphone and belts out the lyrics with all of his might. Your hands reach back down to grip onto the metal once again as you gasp for breath, and the lack of oxygen makes you feel high, causing you to lean forward and let out an exhilarated exhalation. You throw your head back and freeze in place as your hair slings back to smack against the top of your spine, and your eyes unintentionally latch onto Jason's. Blue, wide eyes stare back down at you in shock, and he lets out a startled curse as his calloused fingertip stutters on a guitar string. You both wince harshly as the sound cries out in opposition to the original sounding note and the song they were currently performing. Kirk looks over at him in confusion, before following his line of sight and halting all of his movements. His eyes begin to water as soon as he recognizes you, which is immediately. The excitement and enjoyment you felt only moments before turns back into dread as you see a heartbroken expression replace his earlier shock, and you quickly push yourself away from the barricade and look over your shoulder to see if you could still exit as easily as you thought you could have earlier. Jason quickly catches on to what you're trying to do, and he shakes his head in disbelief before falling back into synch with their drummer and frontman, who were still blissfully unaware about what was currently going on. The bassist takes one look over at his downtrodden friend and bandmate and decides that he has to at least try to get you all back together once again, somehow.

Jason clenches his jaw as he watches you try to find an escape, before motioning down at the dutiful security guard closest to him and nodding his head towards you. The bassist flicks his chin in the direction of the staircase nearest to where you're stood and sends the curious guard a wink. Jason walks back to his original place on stage and grins to himself as he keeps watch on the now understanding and on-board security guard making his way on over to your trembling form.

Your eyes widen as you see a tall and unknown muscular man make his way over to you, and you take a large step back as his shirt comes into view. "I'm going to need you to come with me, miss," the man tries to yell out to you coherently, his face settling into a grimace as he tries to beckon you forward and presses his ribs into the barricade. "Someone in the band would like to talk to you, so just give me your hand and I'll lift you over the barrier." You quickly go to shake your head and reject his offer, but as you try to take another step backwards and make a left for your original exit, you realize that it's now blocked with another growing pit of shoving fans trying to get a better and clearer view of the stage.

You run your hand through your hair and tug against the roots as you admit defeat, closing your eyes momentarily to ready yourself for the upcoming lift and the possibility of being fully exposed to the entirety of the band. You shakily grab ahold of the security guard's hand as he holds it out for you so he can use the leverage to tug you closer, and you place your weight on your front to make it easier for him to lift you up by your waist and over the metal bars. You make overwrought eye contact with Jason as you're placed over and on to their walkway that's about a handful of feet closer to the stage, and you quickly look away as he sends you a second glance full of worry and guilt.

"I don't know what's going on, but if you need me to escort you through the back and into the second level of the parking lot, I can do that for you. I might be working for them for the next few nights, but it isn't going to sit well with me knowing that I'm coercing you into being around a group of famous men with a look on your face like that."

You peer up at the slightly greying male with the uneasy and hesitant look on his face, and you send him what you hope looks like a small and placating smile. You go to speak and reassure the man but pause as a voice you could never forget calls for the music to stop, and you hear your name being called out from only a few yards away.

Bright and wild blue eyes stare over at you, filled with utter disbelief and pure confusion. A yellow stage light bleeds out on top of his curly mane, propelling the illusion of a halo around his head as the color of his eyes seem to intensify the longer you stare back at him.

Lars slowly stands up from behind his set and walks over to pause next to Kirk, before walking up even closer to the edge of the center stage and squatting down to level eye contact with the security guard still standing next to you, semi-protectively. "Take her backstage and make sure she doesn't leave," he starts, before blinking rapidly and glancing away to catch his bearings. "We've got some catching up to do." Tears spring to your eyes as you watch an array of emotions vary on each of their faces, and you seem to feel nothing but weighed down and at fault for the sudden disappearance of their earlier happiness. The adrenaline that ran through you while you were waiting outside in line is now long gone, and now all you wanted to do was go home and come to terms with the fact that they seem like they've been much happier since you've been gone.

"I don't think that's such a good," you start before you're quickly cut off by James, who's first single word to you in almost two years is, "Please." You hesitantly look over at him and almost flinch at the despondent and lost expression on his face, and you felt like you could do nothing else but agree. You knew that you owed them that much, even if you were the only one that was left behind. They all seem to partially settle down once you nod in agreement, and they all agree to continue and finish their concert before coming backstage to talk to you and make plans.

After you're wished good luck and a good night by the kind security guard, you're left to sit around in their dressing room, the feeling of being left in the wrong room apparent in you as you take in the absence of the usual vodka bottles and empty beer cans you're used to being scattered all over the floor.

✩

"Why do you think she's here?" Lars asks quietly as they make their way down a hidden flight of stairs once they've finished up their concert, the sweat pouring down them causing whatever articles of clothing they still have on to stick to their skin like an uncomfortable second layer. "And why did she look like she was ready to bolt once Newsted got security to pick her out of the crowd?" Kirk inquires, the deep frown on his face a rarity, causing James to lunge forward and yank on the back of his neck playfully until he begins to smile once again.

"She can probably still hear all of you." Jason quips up from behind the anxious trio, pointing at their room's door, which just so happens to be wide open and no more than a handful of feet away. Lars flushes and briefly hesitates before being the first one to walk in, Kirk soon following after him and grabbing onto the backing of his jeans for leverage.

"Why'd you get security to invite her over the barricade?" James asks their bassist once the other two men are further into their dressing room and out of earshot. Jason lets out a tired sigh and walks a few feet away in the opposite direction, before beckoning James to do the same.

"It's been two years since any of you have spoken to her, and she randomly shows up to one of our shows, which just so happens to be the one closest to the town you guys said goodbye to her in. It seems to me like she needs some sort of closure. And after the near year she spent taking care of all of us after I was brought in and you were all still grieving, it felt like the least that I could do. No matter the circumstances," Jason gives his friend a onceover before continuing. "Are you honestly upset with me inviting her, or are you upset that she didn't come willingly and on her own volition? Because with the way we all left her once we had album preparation and had to move because of production, I'd say the only one who has the right to be upset right now is her."

"She never asked to come with us." James says as a weak rebuttal, feeling helpless and out of his element, meanwhile his bandmate seems to understand both sides so easily.

"And you never asked her to. With all of the heavy drinking and the mourning and other substances, what young woman would want to be around that? Especially if all she can do is just stand around and watch the rest of her closest friends suffer," Jason claps his friend on the back comfortingly, before hiking his shirt over his head and groaning in disgust at the sound it makes while he removes it and tosses it into a nearby laundry bag. "She lost someone she loved and considered a brother that night too, and then a year later we all hitched a ride on our new tour bus and neither side reached out to each other, both too scared of what the other would have to say. If you're wondering what she's doing here, she's probably wondering why the hell we aren't in the room with her and the rest of the guys, trying to figure everything out."

"You're right. I'm sorry, man." James murmurs out tiredly, before taking in a deep breath and raising a hand to rub it down his face in defeat. "This all just came out of nowhere. Seeing her look so frazzled and afraid and out of her element just got to me, and I don't know what to do. I don't know how to take all of this in right now. I don't know how to make things right."

"The first thing you can do to make things right is make your way through that door and hear her side, and then you can tell her yours. We don't know why she came out here tonight, but what we all can do is listen."

✩

You lie your head back on the sofa and breathe out a shaky exhale, trying to quietly prepare yourself for the conversations that should have happened years ago. Anxious thoughts run through your mind as footsteps pitter near the doorway and then walk away multiple times, and each time you look over, it's either an arena associate or a disgruntled and irritated looking manager. You let out a discomforted sound before standing up after about an hour or two, the heels of your feet feeling like pins and needles from sitting in place and not moving around for such a long time.

You wring your hands together behind your back and stretch out your tense shoulder blades, taking a break from walking in circles in the too-bright room as a familiar looking piece of string dangles from an overly large duffle bag not too far away from you. Your curiosity gets the best of you, and you meekly make your way over to the items before squatting down, making sure not to touch the bag or anything attached to it more than necessary.

Your eyes widen as the bright and unique colors of the friendship fabric bracelets you and James had originally bought for each other years ago come into view as you level your height down to peek at them, your eyebrows furrowing as you realize that he has yours wrapped around his in a double knot. The same fabric bracelet you were told you lost days before they left and moved out of town, over two years ago. Your wrap your left thumb and index finger around it and smile to yourself at the feeling of the soft texture, before nearly jumping in place as a voice carefully speaks up from behind you.

"That's James' bag, has been for the past few years. Refuses to let anyone touch it, because he doesn't want anyone to try and remove the bracelets from each other." Kirk says softly, as if he's afraid that raising his voice might scare you off. Lars watches you intently by his side, his neutral facial expression only wavering when he makes eye contact with you. "He's kept them this entire time? He told me I lost mine before you guys left." Kirk winces at the end of your statement and temporarily looks away before explaining.

"He told you that so he could go back to the store you two bought yours from and see if he could add on any additional colors for the two of us, as a surprise for you. Didn't want to waste the money buying us individual one's, because we couldn't hold on to something if you threw it at us and paid us money to beforehand." You were smiling at the self-deprecation before you could even help it, and the boys share a quick grin at the first look of happiness they've seen on your face since the day before they moved back out to California.

"There aren't any new colors added on, though." You muse, standing back up to your full height and pausing as you turn and see James watching you three from the doorway, a careful look on his face. The frontman pushes himself off of the aged wood and slowly makes his way into the room, Jason soon entering behind him and sending you a soft smile as he does so. You send one back, happy to see him, regardless of the mess he could have just gotten you in.

"By the time we heard about management wanting to move us out of state for higher production and future album releases, it was too late for me to head over and figure it out. Doesn't mean I'd ever forget about something I wanted to do for you. I would never." You look down at your feet as James delicately brushes against you to get over to the nearest sofa, and you hold back a shiver as you watch his hands clench into fists afterwards, as if he was holding himself back from reaching out and holding you.

Lars purposefully clears his throat and nods in the direction of where James is sat, hiding a grin behind a raised hand as you're directed to sit next to him on the small two-seater. You look straight ahead as you make your way over to your old best friend and sit down as far away as you possibly can, the entirety of the left side of your body nearly on top of him despite your best efforts. Jason sends the Dane a knowing look, before lying halfway down on the large loveseat on the other side of the room, letting an audible cheeky laugh reverberate around the soundproof room as Lars and Kirk groan out loud in unison and slump toward the uncomfortable leftover metal chairs.

You frown and go to stand up and offer one of them your seat, before freezing as a large and hot palm slides over to rest against the middle of your thigh to hold you in place. Your throat shudders as you dryly swallow, James' thumb momentarily caressing your bare skin before freezing in place. "Don't. They've been hyperactive little shits since this morning. This can be considered their fifteen-minute timeouts."

"As if you could even last that long." One of them mutters under their breath, causing the entire room to burst out into laughter, the innuendo taking out all four of you at once. You press a hand against your mouth as you hunch over from the force of the abrupt laughter, and you feel lighter than you've felt in months, surrounded by the few people you've ever truly felt at peace with. The silence that follows after slowly causes your smile to slip, but with James' hand still on you and the tenseness in the air gone for now, you decide to be grateful for what you have at the moment and stick with it for as long as you can. You softly speak up, suddenly feeling brave enough to explain your side of the story.

"I didn't forget about you guys," you start, promise. "When I found out that the move was being talked about for over a month before I even heard about it, I was really hurt. You guys moved two days after I found out, and I couldn't even wrap my mind around the fact that I was losing even more people that I care about, because you were already gone by then." Your voice wilts as a tear makes its way down your cheek, and you welcome James' thumb as he lightly brushes it away. Jason silently makes his way over to you, kneeling and then fully sitting down by your feet and taking ahold of your hand that's closest to him.

"But I feel like I lost you guys when I lost Cliff. Afterwards, nothing was the same. I didn't expect it to be, but it seemed like no one else was trying as hard I as was to make things as best as they could be. You guys started drinking heavily and having nightmares that I couldn't take away, no matter how hard I tried to. Jason was treated like shit for months for no reason and because of that he isolated himself, and I was left to hold back your hair every night when you all got sick in rotation from drinking and taking too much than you could handle. By the time things slowly started to settle and grieving our brother didn't feel like pulling teeth, I only had a month with you guys left before the record company wanted you to up and leave. I didn't reach out to speak to any of you, because I was afraid. Afraid that I'd end up getting a call or a letter in the mail telling me that I've lost the rest of you in another wreck, or that one day the letters would stop because you'd eventually forget about me and move on. No one here did anything wrong, and I don't blame anyone for anything that has happened."

You look up and see James watching you with a tender expression on his face, his eyes blinking rapidly as if he was holding back tears. Lars has silent tear tracks running down his now flushed cheeks, and Kirk just looks heartbroken. His face is resting in a trembling hand and his eyes are bright red. Jason squeezes your hand and sends you an unstable smile, silently urging you to continue.

"But I need you all to know that I'm not upset with any of you, I'm just extremely proud. I've been keeping up with your music, and when I saw you all perform, it made me feel alive. Cliff is still with all of us and to see all of the effort and exertion you guys put into making everything as amazing as it was tonight, I know he'd be so damn proud. I came here tonight to see my old best friends kick ass, and to make sure that you lot are as happy as you seem to be. And I can leave here tonight knowing that it's true."

All three of them seem to freeze in place as your last words resound around the room, and James begins to tense up beside you. "You're leaving again? After we make amends and we're good, you're going to just leave?" James asks you, his voice heavy with hurt, and you watch with wide eyes as he hastily removes his hand from you and stands up from the sofa.

"James," you start, before promptly shutting your mouth and making yourself small in the cushions as he glares over at you from where he's stood.

"That was your plan all along, right? Come here, get rid of your guilty conscience, make amends and act like everything is fine, and then leave us here to miss you again. That's fucked. This is all so fucked."

"That isn't true, James and you know it." Lars speaks up, his own voice sounding extremely exhausted and dilapidated. Kirk nods beside him, sitting up straight and trying to refocus as the mood in the room begins to darken again. Jason rests an arm against your kneecap and send his bandmate a sharp and warning look, before letting out a sound of frustration as James storms his way out of the room and down the never-ending hallway. Lars repositions himself in his chair and goes to push himself up, but you gently remove Jason's arm from you and stand up instead, the urge to make sure James is alright too strong for you to ignore.

"It's alright. I'll do it, I'll go check on him. I came here and started this clusterfuck, I might as well clean it up myself." You quickly wave off their worries of you heading off on your own, and you reassure them by writing down their dressing room's number in case you get lost. The second you leave their company and the room, your shoulders immediately lower and tears cling to your eyelashes. You take in a deep breath and stabilize yourself whenever someone sends you a worrisome glance, refusing to allow yourself to break down until you know that he's okay and he's in front of you. You're halfway down the hall and almost close to panicking before a red stairs sign beams its way down to you almost knowingly, and you swiftly press down on the latch and launch yourself up the nearest flight of stairs. The sound of the heels of your boots harshly meeting and smacking against the tile beneath you remind you of the sound of you and James when you'd dance in your old, shared home, and you force yourself to go even faster.

You gasp for air as you clutch onto the railing on top of the highest flight of stairs, before letting out a relieved huff as you find a familiar looking boot left behind to hold the roof's door open. You push the hair away from your now sweat-clad face, and carefully shove the door open wider, making sure that it doesn't fully close behind you and lock you two out.

James lets out a sarcastic sound as he halfheartedly acknowledges you walking over, and you frown at the condescending sound. "I thought you'd be gone already. Have anything else to get off your chest before you make your two-hour drive back home?" You recoil as if you'd been hit, before gritting your teeth and spitting out the first words that come to mind.

"Fuck you."

James freezes in shock before pushing himself off of the roof's railing, his face setting into a deadly glare as he stalks his way over to you. "What did you just say to me?"

"I said, fuck you," you calmly raise your hand before continuing, it quickly becoming a fist as he tries to talk over you. "I was trying to be kind and supportive, because I care about you, I care about all of you. But you know what, you can go and fuck yourself. You weren't the only one who was left behind. I had no one in town and I was left in a four bedroom house, stuck paying the rent by myself while you went on to tour the states we spoke about going to together. I cried, for weeks, terrified that one of you would get hurt out on the road, I couldn't go into your guys' bedrooms until your scents were completely gone, and I had to leave the house behind because I couldn't afford it on my own. So, before you continue to belittle me and talk to me like I'm little to nothing, let me remind you that you had three of my closest friends with you the entire time you felt lonely, meanwhile I was actually the one that had no one and was basically abandoned by everyone I thought I could call my family. You want to feel sorry for yourself and be mad at me because I said I was going to leave once we make amends, then fine, go for it. But don't forget to show me some respect, when all I ever did was be there for you. I never expected anything in return, except for a solid goodbye. And you couldn't even give me that."

You go to storm off, before turning around to face him once again. "And just to let you know, I made myself another friendship bracelet," you kick off a boot and raise your ankle until it's near his eye level. "I added red, because I missed you and it's always been your favorite color." You shake your head in disbelief as he just stands there in shock, his mouth left wide open and his hands grasping at the limited space between you.

"And to think I've been stuck chasing stupid, in love with you this entire time."

✩

The tears you held in for more than long enough finally make their way down your cheeks and eventually down to your neck as you race your way back down to the floor level, to say goodbye to the other guys and make your way back home. You begin to skip steps, ignoring the twinges of pain with every moderate jump you take to speed up as James chases after you, your name sounding pained and guttural every single time he screams it out.

Your chest throbs in pain and your lungs forcibly constrict themselves for air once you finally get to the last flight, refusing to slow for a breather when you know James is only a few steps behind.

You let out a yelp as the first floor door is yanked open from behind you as you hurry your way down the now deserted hallway of the arena, your eyes widening as rough and calloused hands lift you off of the ground from behind and toss you over a wide and broad shoulder.

"Let me down! What the hell is wrong with you?" You yell, gasping out as a large palm smacks against your backside and holds you down in place, the pressure of his hand pushing your pelvic region into his collarbone.

"You know what, you absolute fucking brat? I made a bracelet for you every month for the first year I was away from you, and the guys teased the hell out of me for it. I sleep on the left side of the bed, because I know you prefer the right, and for some dumbass reason I keep it open just in case you decide to come looking for me. I know I left you behind, but I didn't have a god damn choice in the matter. The boys were relying on me to keep my shit together because you weren't able to be there and help me anymore, and every time we toured in the states we spoke about going to together, I was fucking miserable the entire time. I miss you more than I can say and that frustrates me, because I should be able to express my emotions at this point, but I can't because it's you!"

James yanks you off of his shoulder and places you down delicately on the ground in front of him, the difference in between the actions making your head spin, and you grasp onto his bare forearms to steady yourself. You stare up at him in shock as you watch his anger-filled expression break down into absolute anguish in front of you.

"Fuck me because you love me, fine. But fuck you, because I love you too." James brokenly whispers, before descending down and capturing your lips with his. You let out a moan at the feeling of his facial hair roughly colliding with your cupid's bow, and you arch into his touch, opening your mouth for his tongue to slide in as he walks you backwards and towards the wall and picks you up by the backs of your thighs to lean you against it.

James uncaringly yanks your skirt up and ignores your half-muted protests as his fingers press indentions into your already reddening legs. "Tell me you want this," he groans out against you, spit slick lines disconnecting and attaching to both of your chins as his mouth kisses and licks its way down your sunburnt neck. The burn of the roughness of his tongue against the heated flesh causes you to gasp out and clench your legs around his midsection, and he grins against your collarbone as he feels your pussy pulsate against his bare chest. "Never mind, no need."

An amused sounding huff echoes its way down to the two of you, and you wildly blush in mortification as you look over and see the other three guys looking at you with horrified, amused, and slightly appraising looks on their faces. "I hate to break it to you two, but I'm exhausted and currently way too sober at the moment to fully enjoy this beautiful image in front of me. So, if you two could so kindly move the hell out of the way so I can get back to my hotel room and get smacked off my tits and then sleep for twelve hours, I would greatly appreciate it."

James rolls his eyes at his dramatic best friend's words of wisdom, before carefully sliding your skirt back down and placing you back down to stand on your own. You intently stare at the ground beneath you as the rest of the bandmates teasingly congratulate the two of you for getting your shit together, before tossing waves over their shoulders as they hurry on their way out.

Jason looks back and sends you a cheeky grin, and you send him the finger as he tosses his head back, his laughter being silenced by the door slamming shut behind him. You couldn't hold back the grin the encapsulates your face as you watch them run out towards the tour bus, and James smiles himself as you let out a laugh and lean forward to rest your head against his chest.

"What's got you so happy, huh?" James asks against you, entangling his fingers with yours and guiding you back towards their assigned room backwards as he bends down to teasingly lick along the seams of your lips. You place your feet on top of his and cheekily grin against his tongue, before you playfully bite onto it.

"Just glad this guy I've been in love with for the last three years finally got his shit together, it was getting really tiring. Too much waiting around." You tease, letting out a shriek of laughter as he bites into your neck in retaliation, only temporarily letting you go to shut the dressing room's door behind the two of you.

"You know what I heard is really cool about the guy you're into?" James asks, guiding you back until the backs of your knees hit the arm of the two-seat sofa. You reach up to wrap your arms around his neck and bring him down on top of you. "What?" you ask, the breath leaving your lungs as he lifts himself up to trail wet and hot kisses down the front of your body, slowly removing each article of clothing you have on as he makes his way down. You feel a gush of arousal soak the cotton of your underwear before he tugs it down with his grinning and sharp teeth, and you raise your hips to help him out, smiling as he places a gentle kiss to the side of your calf as a silent thanks.

James grins to himself before flipping you over and positioning you onto your knees, listening intently to each sound you make as he licks his way up to your middle, stopping right before he reaches your sex.

"The man's got amazing sound techs that are great at soundproofing dressing room's," he whispers, before roughly sucking on your clit and tangling his tongue in between your sopping wet folds. "Now scream for me."

✩

Your back arches as his sweaty palm guides you upright and into the right position, his calloused fingertips pressing into your lower back as you ride him nice and fast, sweat dripping down your body and landing on his chest in raindrops.

"So fucking good for me, princess. Just give me one more." You hoarsely cry out an inaudible disagreement, causing the man underneath you to coo and slowly stop his rough thrusting into you. You slump against him in exhaustion, every single inch of your skin from the bottom of your kneecaps up to your belly button covered in purple hued love bites, and your clit so swollen and sensitive, your walls spasm around him in a death grip whenever it grazes against James' trimmed and groomed pubic hair and toned stomach.

A warm and damp hand comes up to rub against your scalp, and you sigh out in bliss and close your eyes, before snapping them open as your guided down by your hair in a firm tug to lie down flat against him.

"You've made me wait for so long, and now you aren't going to let me have and get what I've always wanted?" He asks against your earlobe, the sweet and calming tone in his voice a drastic dissimilarity to the grip tightening on your scalp. You open your mouth in a silent gasp and dig your fingernails into the sofa cushions around each side of his head, your eyes nearly crossing and tears streaming down your face as he wraps his free arm around your waist and fucks back into you with reckless abandon.

You can only hold on as best as you possibly can as you allow him to use you, a ragged and wretched cry of a moan hurdling its way out of your chest as you orgasm for the nth time tonight, your legs turning numb and the bottom of your asscheeks beginning to bruise from the power behind his thrusts and his teasing and domineering hands.

The endless tightening around him causes James to grunt out loud and fill you to the brim with him seed, and you fully relax around him once you feel his bottom half reconnect with the ruined sofa underneath him.

James places a delicate kiss to your forehead and curls you into his chest, the rough skin of his palms dancing their way up and down your spine, and you nearly fall asleep within minutes, before tiredly humming out an answer as he begins to speak.

"Hey, doll?" James murmurs against you, absolutely spent himself and hoping to all and any higher power that he remembered to lock the door while he was backing you into the room. "How do you feel about Arkansas?" You grin against his chest and lift your own hand to rest it against the erratic pounding of his heartbeat.

"Anywhere you're going, I'm going." James grins widely, and you feel the comforting scratch of his beard on your skin as his lips stretch and show proof of how incredibly happy he is, in this very moment here, with you.

"Now, that's what I like to hear."

"Oh, fuck you."

him >>>

high quality pictures of a high-quality man ♡

You Make Loving Fun ✍︎ Cliff Burton

for @metallicaislife ♡ for whom (the bell tolls) i love endlessly

Worn out cotton tickles the tip of your nose as you twist your body to hug the pillow beneath you, the furrow between your eyebrows concaving into a deep and temporary divot as you blindly shove your face into the pillowcase and groan out a halfhearted protest. The sun beams down on and in through the aged and crooked blinds, and you grimace as you feel the slight tinge of sweat culminate on the skin of your left arm and shoulder blade.

You exhale out a sigh of relief as you untangle a limb and use it to toss the embroidered and heavy blanket off of your upper half, and a smile twitches itself onto your yawning lips, as the faint and barely-there scent of your boyfriend's herbs and stale cigarette smoke wafts and dances its way up to you from the movement of the fabric.

You sluggishly sit up and immediately make eye contact with the most recent picture that was taken of Cliff and sent your way, via mail, and a deep sense of yearning and excited anxiety fills you to the brim as you take in the sight. In the photo you kept in safe keeping, your boyfriend can be seen grinning down at a letter you wrote only a few days prior, the delicate skin around his eyes stretching and wrinkling with glee as he takes in your adoration-filled words. Your fingers grip onto the fabric of his shirt surrounding you as you embrace the flutter that creates dormancy in your chest. You blink back the sting that starts behind your eyelids as you think of your partner, before turning your attention elsewhere, suddenly needing a distraction from the onslaught of emotions trying to overwhelm you so early in the morning.

The smile that once teased your lips comes back to, you unable to fight back the amusement you feel as soon as the sticker on the postcard to your left comes into view, as you turn your head away from the polaroid thumbtacked on the wall opposite of the bed.

'Metallica up your ass!' stares back up at you in an overused and obnoxious font, the beginning and ending of the band's logo's letters turning into plungers and bleeding their way down the paper in front of you in a muddy and russet brown color.

The heart beating inside of your chest pauses, and then sporadically beats as your partially numb fingertips run their way over the smudged and messy ink on the bottom of the postcard, your arms feeling like lead as they slowly wake themselves up.

Soon, is the only word scrawled on the dilapidated piece of paper, and you caress your bottom lip with the tip of your tongue as you take in a deep and unsteady breath. Biting back a wince as your uncovered and bare feet make contact with the chilled hardwood floor underneath you as you begin to stand up, your amused smile relaxes itself into a small grin as you make your way down into another room of the shared living space. Old group posters absorb themselves into the chipped, yellow paint of the hallway's walls and vinyl's haphazardly rest on uneven and homemade shelves, the sight greeting you warmly as you tiredly stumble through the small living room area and into the dimly lit kitchen.

You temporarily flutter your eyes shut as the coffee machine buzzes and vibrates to life against the scratched marble counter you lean against with your cocked hip, the sound comforting and grounding as you slowly begin to come to full consciousness. The tips of your nails tap against the hardened material of your favorite mug with a familiar beat, and your chest heaves in a silent laugh as you acknowledge the original source.

"Two hours, two hours." You murmur out into the chilled air, your eyes finally opening back up and making their way upward to stare up at the clock above the refrigerator. Your palm reddens as you press it against your now filled and warmed up coffee mug and you hum in contentment, before pushing yourself off of the countertop with your free elbow and making your way back toward the bedroom once again.

Reaching out to entangle your fingers in the multitude of band and long sleeve t-shirts Cliff left behind as you make your way past your guys' closet, you swallow a large gulp of the caffeinated drink and glance at the outfit you already have placed out and folded on top of a chair, on the outskirts of the bedroom. Anticipation enraptures you as you pitter over to the dress, and you mirthfully grin to yourself and against the heat emanating from your coffee as you picture his reaction to the ensemble. You already know what your reaction to seeing him again will be like, somewhat already familiarized with the sense of longing that comes with the partially long-distance relationship the two of you were in. But you hope the letter you wrote last night and the effort you put in to surprising him will show him how much you truly care for him, love him. And you also, maybe, want to floor him on his ass just a little bit. Lovingly, of course.

✉

Fleetwood Mac harmonizes out of the record player and into the frenzied air of the dining room as you run your way around the small apartment, the mirth and confidence you felt earlier being shoved back and away and replaced with exerted exhaustion. You let out a puff of air and bite back a giggle as it sways the hair resting against the crown of your head and your temples. You lean back and rest against the wall connecting the two nearest rooms and wipe the sudsy water off of the palms of your hands, the caffeine in your system now completely gone after the last hour and a half of cooking and getting yourself ready. You freeze in place at an unexpected and too-early sound coming from the front door only a few feet away from you; the grip you have on the apron you're trying to remove slipping as you suddenly hear a key slide into the deadbolt.

"Oh shit." You whisper, before hurriedly yanking the stained protectant off and tossing it over and onto the sofa, the doorknob now being twisted and pushed on with impatient haste.

You place your hands behind your back and wrap them around the opposite wrist, your stomach sucking in densely with a heavy inhalation as you ready yourself for the sight of your boyfriend. The heart in your chest begins to thunder and catapult as he shoves his way in, his arms weighed down by multiple duffle bags and heavy carry on's. Cliff visibly deflates as soon as you come into view, the annoyed expression on his facial features crumbling and his eyes widening with anew light. Before either one of you could utter out a single word, your feet begin to move on their own accord, and your arms encircle themselves around his broad shoulders as you guide him down into an abrupt embrace. Cliff lets out a surprised grunt as you make harsh contact with him, and he carefully allows his bags to thud against the welcoming rug as soon as he's sure your feet are in the clear and a safe distance away. Cliff gently guides you backwards and further into the warmth of the lived in space, his right and booted foot blindly kicking the door behind him closed as he wholly and intentionally focuses in on you.

"Hi, sweetheart." He coos out, his eyebrows raising in muted amusement as he feels you shake against him with poorly hidden tremors. His hand dips down to your lower back to rub soothing and placating circles in the intimate and sensitive skin, causing you to take in a deep breath of his scent and sigh out, feeling immense exasperated relief as he temporarily brings his body closer to yours.

"Where's the funeral?" Cliff muses, gently unwrapping your arms from around him and shuffling you until you're at an arm's length of distance. Large and warm calloused hands cup your cheeks as tears stream down from your eyes, and you let out a sound of embarrassment as soon as you look up at him and make bashful eye contact.

"I had the whole day planned out, and I swore to myself I wouldn't cry." You admit, an unfightable smile breaking through and ending the waterwork of tears as your boyfriend's warm and soft laughter fills the room around you two. "If a reunion between us doesn't start with you crying as soon as you see me, then you didn't miss me all that much." You raise an arm to playfully collide it with his arm but pause as you get lost in the way he looks down at you. Warmth spreads through you as Cliff caresses your cheeks and bends down to meet you halfway, his lips feeling more homelike than the apartment the two or you share.

The music playing from a room away bleeds into a cacophony of static and gentle white noise as he delicately breathes out against you and his stubble brushes against your cupid's bow. The hand you have paused and already raised goes to wrap around his wrist instead, and you let out a sigh of fulfillment as you feel his steady and thrumming heartbeat underneath your slightly trembling fingertips. The hand you aren't holding on to slides down and grips onto the back of your neck and onto your nape, the firm grasp making you melt into the embrace and fully relax. The never-ending worrying of his health and safety and if he'll make it home all in one piece finally stops and you nearly slump in overwhelming consolation, before letting out a whine as he pulls away and disconnects his lips from yours.

Cliff smiles widely, his eyes doing that endearing squint that you love so much as he takes in your appearance, inch by inch. Heat bleeds from the apples of your cheeks down to your chest, and you're close to shying away before he speaks up and begins his praise. "And look at you, my love, all dressed up for me." You let out a gentle bout of laughter as his hand glides to yours and raises to spin you in a dramatic and slow circle.

"And only for you," you reassure him in a quiet tone, your blush becoming a bright red hue as his eyes slightly darken at your affirmation. "Who takes care of me, no matter how far away he may be," Cliff quickly clears his throat and looks away as he starts to flush, only glancing over at you to playfully glare as you let out a sound of amused enjoyment. "Go and take your jacket and your shoes off for me, big boy. I made us dinner."

You watch as your boyfriend seems to physically shake his head to get out of his own stupor, and you bite onto the tip of your thumb as a wide grin sores your cheeks. You quickly turn around and slide the envelope underneath his tablecloth before he could see it and make your way over to your chair. You look up amid filling up both of your plates as you hear a throat clear itself and a zipper shudder to a close, and your lips gape open in surprise as you're greeted with your partner holding out a bouquet of flowers to you. Pink roses are hugged up against tulips and blooming sunflowers, and surrounding all of it, a ribbon tied in a perfect knot with all of your favorite colors.

"Cliff," you start and then stop, your eyes threatening to water as you take in his sheepish grin. His socked feet shuffle in barely contained nervousness, causing the bell bottoms of his flared jeans to rub against each other and irritate his ankle's skin. "I knew I was going to come home, and you'd be looking as gorgeous as you usually do, with a mountain full of food out on the table and our songs already playing. It really isn't that big of a deal, baby. Just wanted to let you know that I was thinking about you on the way over here and wanted to gift you a little token of appreciation." Cliff feels his heart flutter in his chest as he takes in your wide eyes and unsteady hands, fighting back the urge to discard the flowers and give you comfort instead.

"Everything you do for me is a big deal, because it comes from you," you swallow thickly and force yourself to take in a deep breath before continuing. "The man who's taught me what healthy love is and what a relationship is supposed to be and feel like. You're everything, especially to me, so every little thing you do for me will always be insurmountable." Cliff lets out a disbelieving laugh as his eyes begin to tear up, and he quickly makes his way over to the table to sit next to you, as close as physically possible without bringing you onto his lap. You both wince at the sound of his chair squeaking out in protest against the tiles underneath it and let out shy laughs at the closeness once you two meet in the middle. No matter how many years the two of you have been together and have met up after a long leg of a tour, it all still felt so brand new and refreshing. And as you thumb a thick strand of hair behind your ear and glance over to see the content smile on your partner's face, you silently wish for the butterflies and the excitement to never end. And as he turns to look at you, he silently does the same, his hands reaching over to entangle themselves in yours to hold you close.

✉

A whoosh flies out of you as you twist your body to face Cliff halfway, your now protruding tummy protesting the movement as you fight to keep the atrocious amount of food you ate down. Your boyfriend looks no better off, the overeating seeming like a good idea at first, but soon becoming a sullen regret as he slumps back in his dining room chair and brings your feet up to rest against the jean material hugging his slender thighs. Your eyes flit over to the dessert you made early last night resting on the stove, and Cliff lets out a deep groan as he follows your line of sight.

"Absolutely fucking not." He refuses, squinting up at you from his lowered position, his face set in a mild grimace and his fingertips drawing firm figure 8's in your bare calves.

"You'll regret saying that when the crust hardens in the morning and the cherry filling dries up." You retort, letting out a chortle as he sarcastically rolls his eyes at your rebuttal. "As long as the pie's the only thing drying up around here, I don't mind."

You smack his shoulder, causing him to beam wide and let out a cackle as he takes in your incredulous expression. "Clifford Lee Burton, you are nothing less of a pervert!" You yell, before sharing a grin as you both acknowledge the hypocrisy in your playful outburst. You were almost always the first one to initiate intimacy between the two of you, shocking the musician who was already known for not being too shy himself once he feels comfortable and in tune with everyone around him. He couldn't help it, turning into a softened mess whenever you were around, his hesitancy only proving his utmost respect for you and only going after whatever you were ready for at any given moment.

"C'mere real quick, I've got something else for you." He murmurs after taking in a few deep breaths, a hand on your leg stopping all movement and removing itself to reach behind his back and grab onto an item from one of his pockets. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, before looking over at the incredible bouquet lying against the edge of the table. He had already done more than enough; he was here, and he was present, and that was all you could possibly want and ask for.

You relay the same sentiment out loud and get a small smile in response, and an almond-colored envelope waved in your direction. Your eyes widen in surprise at the rarity of him writing you a letter, his thing more of a late-night phone call after an exhilarating performance and him falling asleep to the sound of your voice. "I figured I'd write you one back after the dozens you wrote me over the past few months that have helped keep me sane, with all of the traveling and roadies we've got running all around. Might not be as good as one of yours, but." Cliff shrugs nonchalantly, but the glassiness of his eyes present a wide array of nervousness and timidness. You hide an enamored grin behind the gift as you feel his leg begin to bounce underneath your own.

"I'd accept and take anything you give me without complaint, and you know that." You almost whisper, the pads of your thumbs indenting themselves into the envelope that's nestled in your palms, as you smile down at the messy scrawling of the nickname that he's been calling you since high school.

Sunshine.

You tear open the sealed backing of the letter with excited haste and ignore the sound of your boyfriend's amused laughter, his hands encircling their way around your calves once again as you unfold the contents inside. Your heart stops in time as you grasp onto a mini polaroid picture of the two of you on your first date. October 12th, 1979, is written on the bottom of the image, and you let out a tear-filled laugh as you run a fingertip over the crooked heart drawn near your connected hands. You quickly unfold the letter and begin to read it with rapt and undeterred attention.

To my sunshine, who I met back in 1979. August 31st, to be exact. I can almost remember it like it was yesterday. You floated into homeroom like you owned the place, although you expression screamed that you wanted to be anywhere else at that moment. Your undeniable beauty is what caught my attention at first, but your personality is what caused me to stick around. You enrapture me, with your kindness and your openness, the way you welcome all kinds of people in and give them emotional shelter. I've never met someone like you before, and I don't think I ever will. I've known you for 2,372 days, and I think I've been in love with you for every single one of them. I cannot picture myself without you, and when I do, I feel nothing but alone and starving. Even when I'm on tour and I'm surrounded by the smell of the other guys and enough weed to power a greenhouse, I still feel your presence around me. You are my everything, and everything else, all at once. And you complete me. Thank you for always sticking by my side, and for believing in the band when we had absolutely nothing. You cheered us on while we were ripping out foam from the walls to make beds in a one room apartment, and you continue to cheer us on in front of hundreds of thousands of people today. Your love is universal, and I hope to be the main person you show it to until we're old and withered, but still young together and at heart. I cannot wait to be able to come home and to have you and hold you in my arms, I've been dreaming about it and yearning for it for months. Hold on, because I'm coming home to you. Love yours, your bellbottom wearing, hippie asshole.

"Six years in counting, and sixty-six more to go." You nearly weep out, your body instinctively reaching out for Cliff as you drop the letter and photo in your lap. Cliff instantly lifts and brings you into and onto his own, gently guiding your head to rest on his chest as he runs his large palms up and down your wracking and trembling back.

"Everything is alright, sweet thing. Just breathe for me." Your partner reassures, the cadence in his voice and his natural comforting aura causing you to calm down much faster than you normally would if he wasn't around.

"Doing so well for me, always so good." Cliff smiles down at you with a soft look as you blearily look up into his bright, green eyes. "When was the last time I told you how much I love you?" You ask him once you trust your voice enough not to crack or break, and an unsteady smile makes its way on to your lips as your boyfriend bends down to place a warm kiss on the center of your forehead.

"Yesterday morning. And then yesterday afternoon, and then last night, again." Cliff drones out, the faux tone of annoyance in his voice making you shake your head in mirth and rest it against his chest once again. You place a kiss there and beam to yourself as he shivers from the notion, before leaning back and sliding your hand underneath his tablecloth to get your own letter this time. "How about I remind you again?"

Cliff lets out a warm spell of laughter as you hand him over a matching-colored envelope, almost the same in size and all. "I bet you won't one up me at all," he jokes to you, before pausing midway while opening it. "Read it to me? Missed the sound of your actual voice. Sweden's phone reception is actual shit, and you sound much better in person." You squint your eyes at his obvious ass kissing but turn around to rest against his front and to lean your head against his clothed shoulder. "Alright, brat."

You lift your hand for the envelope and let out a huff as he playfully tugs it away from you, going to fully open it himself and then placing it in your awaiting hand. You momentarily close your eyes at the sensation of his stubble making contact with your exposed collarbone, before opening them once again to start reading your letter out loud.

"To my hippie rockstar, I miss you even though we already spoke over the phone tonight. The excitement in your voice when you told me about how filled and interactive the crowd was made me want to cry. It reminds me of the times we used to sit in your parent's living room and watch the tapes your parents filmed of you, Scott and Connie. You banging on empty and already-eaten spaghetti cans and your older siblings playing their actual instruments, but you still kept up with them with your insane enthusiasm. I know Connie is proud of you, she told me the other night when I called her home. But I know Scott would be losing his shit right now. He'd be the first person in line at every single venue, and the last person standing out there, cheering you on while everyone else headed on home. I know he isn't with us anymore, but he's still your older brother no matter how you look at it, and I just know he's exuberant and standing on the tips of his toes looking down at you. We all are, because you are our star. I knew it the first moment I saw you, in that overworn jean jacket you still somehow fit into today, and that bellbottom jean style you still hold on to, that we all secretly love. When I first saw you and spoke to you outside of class, I knew you were different. The shy smiles you'd send my way and the little notes we'd pass to each other when the teacher wasn't looking. The first time you held my hand on our first date and refused to let go until I promised you that I'd allow you to take me out on another one. You are tenacious and hardworking and everyone around you is so proud, including me. I cannot wait to see you and our best friends on tour in person once again, and I can't wait to see how we end up in the future. Together, I know that. Hopefully in a home much larger and filled with our children and future nieces and nephews, and with that specific type of breed of dog you've always wanted. But even if in fifteen years down the road and we're still in this old apartment, with the same crooked blinds and the same scratched marble countertops, I would still be content. Because as long as I have you by my side and still feel you even if you're not here with me physically, I'll still have you in my heart and you'll always be here. You are my other half, my overindulgent, loving and caring, hippie rockstar. And I wouldn't have you any other way. Until I see you again, your Sunshine. Six years in counting, and sixty-six more to go."

You sniffle once you finish, the tip of your nose being tickled and irritated by a teardrop refusing to fall down. The music is the only sound emanating throughout the apartment, but you know that your boyfriend held on to every single word and syllable, if his shaking shoulders were any indication and proof of that. You let out a coo as you feel his arms encircle their way around your middle from behind, and you twist your head to the side to place a kiss on his now damp and tear-stained jawline.

"We're all so proud of you. You know that, right?" You ask him quietly, not wanting to fright him or break the delicate scene the two letters of yours made. You feel him nod against you and you let go of your letter to wrap your hands around his. "You do so well for everyone, and if I have to remind you myself every day, then I will."

"I love you so much." Cliff declares, the tremble in his voice causing you to press yourself against him even more, wanting to give him as much comfort as physically possible. "And I love you." You answer, simply and softly. Because it was the truth, and you always will. You made that promise to him five years ago on your first anniversary, and you intend to keep it until that right is taken away from you.

Cliff kisses the tears away of his that landed on your shoulders during your reading, and carefully scoots his chair back until it lightly raps itself against the yellow-colored wall. Before you could even ask what he was doing, you're spontaneously picked up with little to no effort, and then placed unsteadily on your bare feet. "Let's dance." He says, before dramatically holding a hand out to you and bowing his head. You let out a confused laugh but decide to go with the flow anyway, reaching your hand up to grasp onto his.

A squeal exits your lips as you're playfully tugged around the dining room table, and on to the crossroads of the living room and the kitchen. You instinctually wrap your arms around his shoulders as soon as he lifts you once again to place your feet on top of his. "I don't want the first day of me being back to be nothing but tears and stomachaches. Granted, the food was amazing, and your letter means the world to me, but I finally have you back in my arms after so long, and I want to take full advantage of it."

Your eyes soften as you look up into his and nod mutely, his hands caressing your lower waist bringing warmth back into you as your combined feet chill from the minor draft breezing itself inside from the front door.

You place a gentle kiss on his chin before resting your forehead against his chest and closing your eyes, the sound of the song that you two danced to on your first date crooning around the two of you like a comforting serenade as you both sway back and forth.

'Sweet, wonderful you. You make me happy with the things you do. Oh, can it be so? This feeling follows me wherever I go.'

"One day," Cliff starts, causing you to hum against him for him to continue. "One day, I'm going to make enough money and I'll propose, and we'll get married, and we can go and look for that perfect home you're always talking about. The white picket fence and the two floors, the walk-in closet, with a garage that's big enough to fit the both of our car's in."

"As long as you're here with me, I don't mind where we go or where we'll end up. That's just fairytales, you and I are the present, so let's focus on that instead," you lean back to look up in his eyes, that already seemed to be looking down at you. "You are my home, and we've got all of the time in the world. So, let's just focus on what we've got now, because that's all that I truly need."

Cliff nods back at you and slightly raises you off of the tops of his feet to bring you into a warm hug and embrace. You wrap your legs around his waist like it's second nature, and you feel complete and at ease as he rests his head in the space between your neck and your shoulder.

"But I'll accept that marriage proposal right away, if you were serious about that one." Your boyfriend lets out a laugh against your flushed skin and you grin widely to yourself as his vibration tickles your skin.

Cliff momentarily glances over at his jean jacket and the little red box that peeks out of its breast pocket, before resting his head against you once again and tightening his grip around you.

For once is his life, or in the past six years of the best part of his life he's spent with you, he's finally got one up on you. And he cannot wait to see your reaction. And he also, maybe, wants to floor you on your ass just a little bit. Lovingly, of course.

'You, you make loving fun. It's all I want to do.'