Morning Coffee


There had to be a better word to describe the grace-deep longing Anna felt when she was without Mitchell than ‘miss’.  Mitchell managed to imbue that inadequate word with all that she felt herself for him when they were apart.  It was close to homesickness.  Anna couldn’t pinpoint that exact term, for it wasn’t tied to their home.  She had to tamp it down when she worked or she would get nothing done, leaving it an unexplored emotion that was quickly forgotten once she was with him again.

The teasing and cuddling were over as soon as he pulled her closer into his strong embrace.  She could feel his desire for her against her own swirling loins.  She was breathless waiting for his lips to fulfill the promise his eyes held.  In one level look and a kiss, Mitchell undid all her pent up longings for him.  Anna sighed and wound her arms around his neck.  She settled more comfortably onto his lap while pressing her lips to his and teasing his mouth open with her tongue.  What she couldn’t express in words came much more easily in physical affections.  The completeness of speaking to Mitchell with her kisses, her movements and her passion for him had somehow become a necessity for her at the moment.

It didn’t take long for Anna to start tugging at Mitchell’s shirt, her fingers skipping underneath it to caress his skin.  Her hips rocked against his, begging for more already.  They were still fully clothed on the couch in the reception room, but Anna’s form and grace had gone too long without contact with its most cherished being.  She broke off kissing Mitchell to take a breath in an effort to slow things down.  She fairly shook with the effort of holding back from what she wanted to do to him.  With him.

“John…” she pleaded in a husky voice, knowing he’d know exactly what she needed.

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Éirí Amach



Bubbles were frothing inside the large roman bathtub that took up more than half the bathroom.  A separate shower and a separate water closet helped the bathroom span the length of the bedroom.  The suite was spacious because its former sitting room had been transformed into a modern day bathroom.  A vanity of gleaming marble and double sinks rounded out the amenities.  The bathroom lacked any mirrors, a not unusual occurrence in the 1930’s.

The hotel had provided a basket of lovely soaps, gels, bath salts, bubble bath, and other luxury personal items.  Anna had eschewed the walk-in shower in favor of the bath, wishing to try some of the french milled lavender soap and luxuriate in a bubble bath.  Her interest in each smell, feel and sound of taking a bubble bath was evident despite her trying to hide it.  Paris could wait.  That inviting bubble bath could not.

She lazily turned off the taps with one foot, sighing in contentment.  She eyed Mitchell from under half lidded eyes.  She lounged in the nearly breast deep water, covered in a rich white foam.  The swells of her breasts glistened and played hide and seek with the bubbles.  She looked like a mermaid frolicking in sea foam. “I think I might have used too much bubble bath,” she commented with an unrepentant grin.  

Relaxing back in the tub with a contented sigh, Mitchell let more of the warm water and bubbles cover his chest. It was nice, just the two of them, and it suddenly felt like they had all the time in the world to do whatever they wanted. Paris could definitely wait if this was how Anna wanted to spend her morning. He looked at her with a small smile as she lounged in the water in front of him, and didn’t try to hide when his eyes dropped to her breasts; the water bobbing and rippling against them. But his gaze soon found its way back to her face and her grin, and he immediately grinned back.

“Too much?” Mitchell mused, lazily swiping his hand across the bubbles floating in front of him, “I don’t think you’ve used enough.” He’d watched her as she looked through all of the bath salts and soaps and everything that the hotel had to offer, letting Anna pick whichever ones she wanted to go in the bath. She hadn’t made a good job at hiding her enthusiasm, and Mitchell was glad. There was an innocent, endearing interest in the soaps and the bubbles that now surrounded them, as if she’d never tried a bubble bath before.

“If we do this again later,” He thought out loud, tacking on the final word and watching her closely, “We could call room service and have them bring up some wine.” Assuming they wouldn’t serve them wine so early in the morning, Mitchell smiled at Anna and pushed himself forward. There was more than enough room in such a large tub for the both of them, but the vampire kept himself close to Anna. His hand brushed against her leg as he collected a handful of bubbles. “Do you have a favourite wine?”

Dul Baile


As was always the case with archangels - they spoke, everyone else listened.  That what Lucifer said made little to no sense and was intended to rile meant only one thing to Anna:  her first thought that his presence concerned Mitchell was correct.

Mitchell had managed to do more than she had since her brother’s departure.  Anna’s eyes were lit with a fire built from dark anger, her grace causing them to flicker flames in her normally hazel eyes.  It was Mitchell that brought her transcending grace back to that hotel room that she had failed to ward properly.  She was so near an astral projection when he inquired about her, it caused her to start when she returned to her form.

“Yes, thank you,” she replied after she had settled.  Her voice sounded remote.  It revealed none of her anger.  She approached Mitchell, passed him and in the next instance had used her spelled angel blade to slit open her wrists.  She bloodied her open wounds against the offending window that had been the weakness in her security.  The angel drew sigils in huge swoops of smeared blood.  She stood back and blew a cold breath across it all.  It crystallized, froze into a bluish white haze and then faded to nothingness as if it had never been there.

That act cooled some of her anger, but only at Lucifer.  She was angry with herself for the danger she had put Mitchell in.  She turned from the window to face Mitchell, but did not raise her eyes to his.  She was now in soldier mode.  The lover mode she had allowed to fall upon them in these chaotic times now lost to the ire and cold reality of their situation.

“I’m sorry you had to meet some of the family that way,” she began by way of explanation.  “I’m sure you’re aware he’s the original black sheep.”  Anna collapsed on the end of the bed, staring at her wounds that still weeped.  Her spell from earlier was still in effect, keeping her blood flowing freely.  She didn’t stop it.  “You’re safe now.”  She finally met Mitchell’s eyes, her own now filled with checked droplets.  “I’ll not fail you another time.”

At first, he’d thought it was a trick of the light, or a trick of his mind, as something akin to fire flickered in Anna’s eyes. It wasn’t until she looked at him and answered him, and the flame faded, that he realised it had been all her. He couldn’t pretend to understand what had just happened, but he wouldn’t question it, either. Silently accepting the angel’s assurance that she was okay, Mitchell watched as she passed him and took out a blade; not processing in time what she was going to do. He wasn’t quick enough to stop her slitting her wrists.

After a moment, he was half-glad that he hadn’t stopped her, and watched the fading sigils curiously as Anna moved over to the hotel bed. It was only when he turned to look back at her that whatever gladness he’d felt faded.

“Anna…” Mitchell spoke softly as he watched her. He’d hoped the utterance of her name might snap her out of whatever trance she was in. It didn’t seem to work. She just sat and promised him he was safe, while her wrists continued to bleed. Anna had healed quickly the first time he’d bitten her, now the blood just flowed freely and the sight of it marred his brow with worry. Quickly, Mitchell moved forward and sat down beside her.

“Anna,” he said again, firmer this time as he took one of her wrists into his hand. The blood immediately covered his fingers as he used his other hand to try and apply pressure to the cut. He wasn’t sure if angels could bleed out, and he didn’t really want to find out. All he could do was search her eyes and try to get her to listen, “I think I’m safer here than I’d have been out there, and he didn’t do anything, right? You’ve not failed me now,” if it was anyone’s fault it was his own for distracting her. He leaned down to press a kiss to her temple, and squeezed her wrist a little tighter, “Just make this stop.”

everyemotioneventhebadones: Hey! I'm an angel. I can do miracles. Should we rework the slang in Britain? I'm your angel for that.


Yeah, but, I imagine that’d take a lot of time. Time we could be using more wisely.

everyemotioneventhebadones: *leans closer and grins* It could be, if you want.


[Smirks] That’s not how slang works; you can’t just decide it’s a good thing. That’s not going on the list of things you can call me.

everyemotioneventhebadones: He did, but don't worry. She turned him down. She was already engaged and getting married in the morning. *pause* Would you like to be my shag bucket?


I’m gonna go with yes, just as long as you know that’s not a term of endearment.