Love and other Nightmares

"I never did." The words came out before I could know they had even formed in my head.

"You never did what?"

"Find some happiness," I admitted, feeling the truth of it down to my marrow. "I spent a few months trying to drown it all in tears, then alcohol, then whatever form of self-loathing I could slather on myself through stupid actions. But I never did find happy again."

"Fuck, don't say that," he demanded, voice raw.

"How could I have?" I countered, head shaking. "You were what happy was to me." That sounded so sappy, but it was true. "I would have been happier waiting for you, Watts. You should have given me the choice."

"I see that now," he agreed, hand moving out, finding mine in the dark, giving it a squeeze. "You know, I have to wonder," he started, letting the sentence hang.

"About what?"

"About why you and I are the only two left here. Of all people. Us."

Now that I knew the full story, it did start to seem like there was some grander plan in work, like the universe wanted us to find each other again.

I had all but given up anything close to faith when the world ended, but I could feel the stirrings of it again in my blood.

Billions of people in the world.

Millions in our state.

Tens of thousands in our town.

But we were all that was left.

It sure seemed a hell of a lot like fate to me.

Like a second chance.

"June?"

"Yeah?"

"You were always my version of happy too. That was how I got through prison. Thinking about you, out in the world, living your life, finding things to laugh and smile about. I wanted that for you. I'm sorry you didn't get it."

"There were times," I conceded. "I wasn't always miserable. I mean, the end of the world kind of put a crimp in it all, but even now there have been some good moments."

"Like throwing a Molotov Cocktail on some monsters."

"A girl has to find her fun where she can these days," I said, feeling my lips curve up when he chuckled.

"I'm sorry, June," he said, voice soft.

"It's okay," I decided, feeling the years of anger and resentment and uncertainty and sadness slowly start to drift away.

"It's not okay," he insisted. "But I did it because I loved you. Always did. Always have. Always will."

God, my heart felt like it was warming in my chest, re-inflating after being crushed for so long.

"I don't think I ever stopped loving you either," I admitted. If I had, I wouldn't have had such strong feelings toward him after so long. "That was why I was always so angry."

"Hey, if the anger was part of what helped keep you alive, I am okay with that," he said, his fingers leaving my fingers to softly stroke up my forearm. "I missed you," he admitted. "And I was miserable thinking one of them had gotten to you. Even though I knew it was likely what happened."

"I feel a little bad now how many times I pictured one of them getting you," I admitted, smiling when he chuckled again.

"I deserved it," he said, his hand moving higher still, fingers sifting into my hair. "God, I forgot how soft this is," he said, his fingertips teasing over my neck as he stroked my hair, making a shiver move through me. And this time, he felt it. "I haven't touched a woman in years," he admitted, his fingers deliberately sliding down my neck this time, over my collarbone.

The desire came on suddenly and strongly, as it always had with him. Sometimes, all he had to do was look in my direction, and I'd get wet.

Now, after so long being untouched, after so many years wanting him in my heart, while my brain reminded me why I could never have him again, when it started, it felt like it pinged off every nerve ending until I felt raw with need, until it was an oppressive weight on my chest and lower stomach, until it was an aching need between my thighs.

"June?" he said as his body shifted, as his face hovered near my neck, his breath warm on my skin.

I knew what he was doing.

He was asking permission.

"Yes," I said, my arms going out, curling around him, pulling his body over mine.

It would always be yes to him.

"Do you still..." he started to ask, lips a whisper from mine.

I knew what he was asking. Because way back when, I'd had a little procedure that said I would be child-free for as long as the little metal contraption stayed inside my body. He wanted to make sure I'd never gotten it taken out, that we weren't about to take any risks.

"Yes," I said, hands going to the back of his neck, making him close the distance, his lips landing on mine—hard, hungry.