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Iarmhairtí

askanna:

The world was trying to end every other day.  Anna was used to that.  The doom and gloom of the Apocalypse, Armageddon, or more simply, The End, shadowed Earth’s luminescence.  Angels were wary of that foretold day, but not frightened of it as were those who inhabited the Earth.  Anna had a stake in humankind continuing on Earth as they had for thousands of years.  She had even tried to stop the Apocalypse once upon a time.  Few events shook the angel.  She had seen and done so much; most of what occurred had become commonplace to her, even if it most other beings would vehemently disagree.

But the thought of hurting Mitchell terrified her; especially unintentionally. 

The angel’s terror subsided in the face of his efforts to soothe her.  His hand touching hers, then cupping her cheeks quelled her trembling.  Once she was safely ensconced in his embrace, she held him tight against her.  Her arms rounded under his arms and up to grip his shoulders.  He felt alright to her.  The slightly chilly man that smelled of cigarettes and coffee.  The one who fit her like a glove in bed and out of bed.  She inhaled his scent and nuzzled into the crook of his neck.  It was as if nothing had happened at all.

“Yes, we’re okay,” she breathed against his skin.  Warmth spread through her.  Seeking solace in anyone’s arms was not something Anna was used to, but with Mitchell it was impossible not to find it.  She played with a strand of his hair that just twisted over the collar of his jacket.  Every piece of him was alright.  She hadn’t hurt him as far as she could tell.  She puzzled over what had happened in her mind.  Unable to discern what had occurred so close in time the event, she gave up with a sigh.

Latching onto happier memories of times past, Anna pressed a kiss to Mitchell’s neck.  “You gave me my first kiss here.  On the rooftop,” she reminded him with a wistful sigh.  “I don’t think there’s been a more romantic first kiss in the history of the universe.”  She gave him a slight smile and pulled back to see his eyes.  “I hope I said thank you.  If not, we could go up top and I can fix that oversight.”

Even after Anna had told him that they were okay, Mitchell was very tempted to just stay as they were in the warmth of each other’s arms. Somehow just hugging her felt right and safe, despite the fact that they’d been hugging when it had happened. It wasn’t until he let her lean back and released his hold of her a little, that he saw Anna’s smile. He at least felt more calm and reassured enough to let his arms slip from around her after that.

"You think I need reminding?" He teased, smiling back at her as he took her hand. Reminiscing was the perfect way to take both of their minds off what had happened. Mitchell couldn’t worry when he was talking about the time they’d spent together, and the shock of what had happened between them was quickly forgotten. Replaced with a much calmer, relaxed and happier feeling.

"I remember we raced to the top first and I let you win, but—" he paused, pretending to have to think a little harder to remember the next detail, "I don’t remember hearing a thank you." Beginning to step back towards the office door, the vampire guided Anna part of the way and then let her hand slip from out of his.

"How about a rematch?," There were another sixty-four steps to the top, but it wasn’t as though either of them would need to stop and catch their breath. He reached behind to unlock the door, a small smile playing across his lips as he kept his eyes on the angel, "You can thank me after."

Paris 1933

askanna:

“Mmhm,” she hummed in agreement to Mitchell’s observation that she had a sweet tooth.  She smiled unabashedly about that fact.  Her smile widened when he edged closer.  She leaned forward slightly, careful to not jostle the filled tray.  

Mitchell was skillful in his guiding of her face towards his.  Her insides turned to liquid and melted down to her toes when his lips met hers.  She wanted to fling her arms around him and pull him on top of her.  The tray kept her from doing more.  Anna’s lips softened under his firm ones.  She followed his lead in the kiss, still learning from him how to please.  The give and take of lips fascinated her.  She wondered if his kisses were always so wondrous or if it was just her newness to the act.  

It was difficult to hold back from wanting more from him.  Her attraction to him was grace-deep.  She leaned into Mitchell, her hands dusting over him as she tried to touch and be touched with a tray full of hot coffee between them.  She was soon frustrated in a way an angel definitely should not be.  She knew that a peck on the lips wasn’t going to sate her.   

After their night together, she trusted him innately.  His recent brush with meting out death failed to overshadow the heroism she had seen from him on the battlefield.  Anna focused on that shiny soul that had fled in the face of darkness to force Mitchell become what he was presently.  His soul was gone, but he seemed to still have the vestiges of it in his mind.  He was tender with her; not a predator intent on sucking out her life.  The more Anna was around him, the more intrigued she became by him.  “John,” she murmured against his lips, an almost plaintive plea for him to understand what she needed and give it to her.

The tray hindered his actions somewhat. Mitchell wanted to wrap his arms around her; to draw her closer, but he couldn’t very well do that with hot coffee balanced between them. He had been half-right in saying that just one kiss couldn’t hurt. And Anna had been right too. It certainly didn’t hurt, but one kiss showed the promise of leading to more, and the redhead murmuring his name quickly sealed that promise. Their plans had to be put on hold. They had all day to spend together, and Paris could wait.

Finally moving the tray to the bedside table, the vampire was able to kiss Anna properly. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer, and cupped the back of her head with his other hand. The kiss only affirmed his guess that Anna had a sweet tooth. She was sweet, and Mitchell savoured the taste of her lips and the hint of sugary coffee. He wanted more, but for a moment all he did was embrace her and kiss her softly. Until he decided to chance taking things a step or two further.

Parting Anna’s lips with his own, Mitchell gently guided her into a much deeper kiss as he pushed her back onto the bed. Pinning her beneath him. It wasn’t long before he began to pull on the cord of her ill-fitted robe. Loosening the fabric even more so he could slip his hands underneath and run them up Anna’s sides. Cool skin brushing against her warm skin. “Anna—” He whispered, still aware that he should take things slow for her. There was a pause as he caught his breath, before, “Want to see more?”

We’ll always have Paris.

Casablanca (1942)

Dul Baile

askanna:

Caught up in watching Mitchell’s expressions, Anna’s cigarette burned itself down to halfway.  She hastily took a few drags off it and then blew them out to form a choir of angels.  The tiny smoke forms lingered in the air in front of them over the river for a moment before dissipating.  She stared down into the depths of the water, searching the lights reflected off its surface for a minute.  Mitchell seemed more amused than anything by her admission.  She didn’t find it amusing at all.  “Mitchell,” she began and licked at her dry lips before continuing, “I need to have more control of my grace than what happened.  What if it had killed you?  I don’t know how grace affects a vampire.  Well, I do, but….”  

Anna trailed off, flicking an ash into the breeze.  She was avoiding mentioning smiting and other almost fanatical religious words.  “What I mean is, I don’t know how grace bonded to you will affect you.  I imagine no one does.  How could they?  It’s not like angels and vampires are supposed to be getting cozy, you know.”  A ghost of a smile flickered across her face, but it was strained.  Her only concern was for his well-being, but he seemed insouciant of the problems their particular species might have in trying to be lovers.

Whether or not Mitchell should take what had happened more seriously wasn’t an issue for Anna.  He had to take it more seriously.  “Have you felt any pain since it happened?  So far we know you can hear my thoughts.  Is that always or just sometimes?  Does it hurt?  I’m worried, Mitchell.  About you.”  She lifted her cigarette and gestured toward him before puffing on it like she was a human high schooler again sneaking a cigarette outside on her parent’s back porch in Ohio.  She blew out the smoke in tiny hearts without even meaning to.  Anna shook her head and laughed lightly.  “I think my grace may be more in love with you than I am,” she commented wryly.  “If that’s even possible.”  Grace was a powerful creation that animated angels into Heaven’s Warriors.  But what did anyone but her Father know about it really?

Watching the small, smoky hearts mingle with his own exhaled smoke, he mulled over everything Anna had said and asked. Her wry comment was the only thing to break the concentration on his face; replacing it with a faint smile. Anna trailing off was enough for Mitchell to take it much more seriously. She knew what an angel’s grace could do to a vampire, she’d as good as told him even if she hadn’t meant to. It was bad, but he found it some sort of comfort to know that a month later he was still fine, with the unexpected side effect of being able to read her mind.

"It doesn’t hurt," He assured. Hoping that would at least give her some peace of mind, Mitchell let a small smile interrupt his serious frown, "That’s the first time it’s happened and I can’t hear anything now." It seemed Anna knew just as little about all of this as he did, and as worrying as that was all he could do was answer her questions and hope that might help them figure out what was happening. "I thought you were thinking out loud, I didn’t realise I was…" reading your mind. That sounded invasive. He didn’t like the fact that he’d had no control in overhearing her thoughts, and that she hadn’t even been aware of what he was doing until he’d said something.

"I’ll tell you if something’s wrong, Anna," Mitchell promised and gave her hand a light squeeze, feeling the mood needed lightening a little, "Right now, I think we better find somewhere to stay," Taking one last drag from his cigarette, he crushed the stub under his heel and started walking again. He didn’t intend to change the subject, Anna didn’t have to worry about him not taking it seriously anymore or just not wanting to talk about it, he just thought it more appropriate to find somewhere more private. In private they could at least talk more openly about what they were and what had happened, without the worry of some stranger, human or supernatural, overhearing them.

Mentaliter Instabilis AU

askanna:

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