keptherwaiting | 1948 / Philadelphia

It happens so fast.

She's there one moment and then the bathroom door is closing behind her, and Jasper is left gaping.

He hadn't meant to excite her so?

Modesty wasn't of much concern with the other vampires he's been around. Not when a quick swap of clothes had to happen, anyway.

Which he gets about to again, after staring at the bathroom door for about a full minutes.

"I - Yes," he says, answering Alice's question now, "I'm sorry, I should've - "

He moves to the bathroom door to greet her as soon as it starts to crack open.

"I apologize. I wasn't thinking. Or suggesting anything," he adds, gesturing blindly at the bed behind him. "I don't intend to take advantage of you because of your feelings for me."

Her eyes are about the size of saucers right now.

"Oh my God," she whispers, looking up at him with dread and worry before grimacing and burying her face in her hands. "Oh my God, I'm an idiot. Jasper--I'm so sorry. That's...not...I didn't mean."

A strangled sort of noise leaves her as she ducks under his arm and moves to sit on the edge of the bed, trying to sort out her jumbled thoughts. Her fingers pinch a piece of her dress between them, rubbing the fabric in a self-soothing sort of way.

"I...have...seen you, in these visions," she starts after a long pause, trying but failing to find a normal way of saying this. "Since the day I woke up as a vampire. Twenty-eight years ago. You were...a fixed point. A lighthouse, in a storm."

Her tongue darts out to wet her lips as she thinks, glancing up at him quickly then back down to her fingers as they let go of the dress and begin twisting around each other. "I had no idea what I was supposed to be doing. How to survive. I knew my name, weirdly enough, but nothing else. I barely remember my first kill, so soon after I woke up, but I remember being barefoot and in a nightgown and covered in the blood of some poor milkman coming down the street I happened to be near.

"But you," She keeps her gaze on him this time, her expression vaguely sad, kind of wistful. "A guiding light. I knew that I'd meet you, and that things would...start to finally make sense. Not that...I've waited twenty-eight years for you to show up and fix something or..."

Her lips twist to the side again and she picks at the comforter under her. "I've done alright, by myself. But it wasn't right. It wasn't...everything I know it could be." She scoffs out a self-deprecating kind of laugh. "I doubt anything I just said made any sense. I'm sorry."

The room is quiet for a moment when Alice finishes talking.

Not that Jasper has nothing to say, only waiting to ensure she's finished. He'd made no sounds or moves to interrupt as she told her story.

He gestures now to the spot on the bed beside her before he sits down next to her, taking the hand that picks at the comforter into his.

"Please don't apologize," he murmurs.

He traces the back of her hand with his thumb, a soothing motion.

Not that he's using his powers on her. He doesn't want to do so in this situation, when she's been so honest and sincere with him. Different from the coy flirt from the diner.

"I might misinterpret what you're saying - I can't know what've you see, or how you see it, but, Alice, I can try to, okay?"

He's looking at her profile as he speaks, taking in the twist of her lips, the concern in her brow, and the sadness in her eyes. All of which he wishes he can chase away.

"My beginning was something else entirely. All I've known is how to endure since I'd been turned. It's a powerful, greedy, thirsty world that I know, and I've been in it as a vampire for eighty-six years. I'm spent, Alice. Or, was," he corrects himself. "Because then I met you. An hour ago, in a diner. You sat across from me, and I felt alive again."

Edited 2020-06-26 03:48 (UTC)

Her head turns toward him, a little, with his words. A small smile appears on her lips, chasing away some of the worry in her brow, but the sadness lingers. "Oh, Jasper," she sighs, "You're far too young to feel so old."

Reaching out with her free hand, the other still in his, Alice places it on his chest, just above his heart. Her fingers smooth out the fabric, then curl into it. "I get jumbled up," she murmurs. "Sometimes I think that if I were this emotional as a human, I probably never stopped crying."

Studying her hand against his new blue shirt, she focuses for a moment on the red nail polish she chose, the rings that adorn her fingers, before lifting her gaze back to his. "I'm starting to think that my life didn't truly begin until that diner. I want to show you a world that isn't greed and power, Jasper. Our world, that we can make together. It can be better, so much better than what you left."

Jasper can't promise her that she'll never be so emotional again. It's simply part of who she is and part of being alive.

He could promise to help her work through those emotions though, so long as he doesn't get swept up in them too. Her emotional current is, admittedly, a very strong one.

"You can show me," is what he says, covering her hand with his own.

Because he's willing to follow her and that much is certain. He wouldn't be in this room now, if he wasn't.

"And we've got more than the a night, right? We don't have to have it all figured out right this instant. Plenty of time for me to also have a turn at trippin' in a puddle while trying to woo a beautiful woman."

“Okay,” she smiles at him, her hand flexing under his, minutely.

Alice takes a deep breath and holds for a moment, trying to sort out her jumble of thoughts and emotion. “I’ve never had to worry about affecting others with my...me. So I’m sorry if it makes you out of sorts.”

She keeps apologizing. She comes on strong and she knows it, now worried it’s too much.

Clearing her throat, Alice squeezes his hand, the one not on his chest. “Let’s start over. I’m Alice, and I can kinda see the future. Also while I love all the colors, I think I might like yellow the best.”

Jasper hardly thinks they need to start over, but if Alice prefers -

"Jasper, ma'am. I can feel others' emotions, but please don't think you have to act any different. I still like blue the best, I think. And has anyone ever told you have the prettiest eyes?"

He may have added that last bit just so she'll stop worry about coming on too strong.

Edited 2020-06-26 15:11 (UTC)

Delight plumes through her, and she slips her hand from under his, the one on her chest, to hide her smile behind it.

“No, I don’t think anyone has,” she laughs, “At least no one as handsome as you, Mr. Jasper. Has anyone told you that you have the most delightful accent?”

He tells her she doesn’t need to act any differently but she also knows that he can feel everything she’s feeling. It’s unnerving, to experience it in person, rather than knowing it intellectually. He’s only just met her, she doesn’t want to bowl him over with the feelings she has.

(But still, hope and love do simmer just below her delight.)

Jasper grinning, one that reaches his eyes, crinkling the corners.

The delight she feels echoes his own, truly. He might not be experiencing the deeper emotion of love yet, but he's definitely delighted to be in her acquaintance.

"Well, thank you, Miss Alice. I appreciate you sayin' so."

He might be laying it on more thickly now.

"You - don't happen to like dancing, do you?"

His smile looks good on him. It fills her with joy, his happiness fueling her own. He’s here, he’s real and he’s smiling—it’s more than she expected, and all she’s been hoping for.

“Oh, I love dancing,” Alice smiles widely, her hands going to his arm. “I’ve never actually gotten to dance with someone though, not really. I’ve gone to a few dances that humans have held but, it wasn’t the same.”

At least, she can’t remember ever dancing closely with someone. Maybe when she was human, but she can’t know.

Edited 2020-06-26 17:02 (UTC)

"Now what's wrong with the men these days?"

Jasper is immediately irked that no human man has asked her to dance yet. They ought to have been lined up, waiting for a chance, in his opinion.

He's standing and holding his hand out to her in a blink.

"Miss Alice, may I?"

Never mind that there's no music.

She takes his hand, letting him pull her up to him. Settling the other hand on his shoulder, Alice knows that if she could flush, she’d be pink from her ears down.

There’s a radio on the dresser, just out of reach, but leaving his arms to turn it on sounds far too bleak. Instead she settles into his grasp, marveling at how tall he is.

“You’re so tall,” Alice whispers, her arm stretched to reach his shoulder. She laughs, a little nervously: “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

Jasper laughs again, as he pulls her closer with his hand flat on her back.

He reaches for the other hand at his shoulder to clasp in his.

"You can say whatever you think. Not like it's a lie. We'll call it an apparent observation."

He hesitantly starts to sway to that song he'd heard so long ago.

"Another apparent observation: You're quite short, and I'm a little rusty at this dancing."

“It’s good enough for me,” she murmurs, a little distracted by how close he is. How good he smells, how strong he feels.

Alice clears her throat, wetting her lips nervously before concentrating on the sway of their bodies. “Dancing’s not all about the steps,” she smiles. “It’s about enjoying what you’re doing.”

He's growing more confident by the moment, moving more, swaying this way and that, even humming a little of the unknown song.

"Easy enough to, when you've got the right partner."

There’s a dozen little visions floating in the air like spiderwebs in the sun. One, he turns this way, another, that way. A dip, a spin, always his hands strong and confident on her. She bats them away, mentally, wanting so desperately to live in the moment and not glimpse it before it happens.

“Well, lucky for me,” Alice smiles coyly up at him, “It looks like I’ve found the perfect one.”

There's a nervous, half-suppressed laugh,a momentary stumble in his growing confidence, before Jasper clears his throat, trying to keep his calm.

"I'm only as perfect because of my partner," he says, meeting her gaze now that he's no longer afraid he'll crush a foot with one wrong step.

Not that it helps to keep his emotions in check as he takes in the gold of her eyes, the upturn of her nose, the pout of her lips.

" - Do you know this song?"

He's trying to ignore the strong desire to kiss her, humming a few more bars of it for her.

"--yes," Alice realizes, with a few more bars hummed. "Duke Ellington. I can't remember the name of it though. It'll come to me, I'm sure."

She's wanted to kiss him since she kissed him in the diner. In fact, she's wanted to kiss him this entire time and to never stop kissing him because kissing him is very nice. And she's ninety percent sure it's because it's him kissing her but also she can't remember being kissed before and is kind of wondering why she didn't do it sooner.

Though, in retrospect, kissing random humans in her early years probably would have led to many more accidents.

"Thank you," she murmurs, watching him look at her. His eyes are dark, he must be between feedings; his nose straight and strong; she wants to slide her fingers through his hair to see what it feels like. Instead her fingers twitch against his.

He's watching her lips as she speaks and he leans in and down, a breath away, his nose brushing the tip of hers.

He's drawn to her, wanting to kiss her, and yet -

"Are you thanking me for the dance?" he asks in a murmur.

- He's scared?

He'd fallen for another vampire, too fast and too hard before. And it had cost him. Dearly.

Not that Alice is anything like Maria. This he knows already.

Her head tilts up to his and then--

The almost-kiss is aborted. She huffs a tiny laugh, a breath against his lips. Still, she brushes her nose against his again, enjoying the closeness of him.

"No," she breathes, her fingers tight on his, the other tight on his shoulder. "For comin' with me. For just...believing and coming with."

She bites her bottom lip and whispers, nervously: "Can I kiss you again?"

" - Yes?"

Jasper is already closing the last inch between them, pulling her impossibly closer, hand at her back.

To Hell with being scared.

This feels right to him. Alice, in his arms. Her lips against his. Her delight and desire matching his own.

This kiss blows the first one out of the water.

The kiss in the diner was in response to a possibility she could not let come to pass, quick and fast and this one--

--well, this one is different. Softer, slower, perfect. Her hand slips from his shoulder to his neck, into his hair, the other holding on at his waist. If her heart beat, it would surely beat right out of her chest.

He feels right. Impossibly close, his hand at her back, his and her emotions fueling each other. Yes, she thinks happily. This is who I waited for.

It'd grieve Jasper to pull away now, even for a moment, and so he doesn't. His hands move, cupping her face, blending one kiss with another and then another.

Her hands in his hair, the other clutching the shirt she'd bought, her utter happiness of just being in his arms is very much overwhelming him.

What was his reason for not kissing her sooner?

The kisses deepen, last longer between each one, her happiness and desire mounting as she returns each one.

She knows, somewhere in the recess of her mind, that her emotions are going to get the better of him, but she doesn't want him to stop. Wants him to kiss her like this forever. Wants this, wants more, wants everything between them always, forever and--

Alice forces herself to pull back, inhaling a sharp lungful of air so she can speak, her hands coming to cup his face like he does hers, her forehead pressing tightly against his. "Wow," she whispers hoarsely, her smile wide and beaming against his lips as she presses another kiss against them--this one quick, though it only leaves her wanting more. "I was really missin' out these last twenty-eight years, not kissin' people."

She laughs, the sound like windchimes in the air. Then, carefully, knowing she's got to be affecting him: "You okay?"

"I'm great," he murmurs, chasing Alice's lips with his own, like someone who has gone twenty-eight years without kissing.

His arms go around her tiny waist, lifting her off the ground with ease so her lips are level with his and he can kiss her again.

"I'm glad you haven't gone around kissin' strangers," he continues in response to her question, trailing his lips to the corner of her mouth.

"Am I allowed to say that? Am I allowed to be jealous?"

It's perhaps a brief moment of clarity, a collision of his own emotions and hers, before his lips are on her yet again, tracing the line of her jaw.

(He is clearly much more affected by her than he even realizes.)

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