Eye of the Beholder

Author’s notes: Thank you Vixey for your review and cyber cookies to you for correctly guessing our visiting shadow.

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“What does he see in me?” she asks almost rhetorically.

“You’re asking me?” Doug scoffs from his side of the dressing room door. “Like I’d know?”

“You used to know once,” she points out as she emerges from the dressing room in the latest gown.

“That was before I came to my senses,” he replies as they head over to the triple mirrors.

“Look at me,” she practically orders her best friend, staring at her multiple images. “My hips are too big, my breasts are too small and my face is too narrow.”

“Well he must see something he likes,” he points out. “He’s hot to trot for you, girl.”

“How can you be so sure?” she questions as she turns one way and then another to see how the dress hangs on her.

“He was practically panting when you were wearing just sweats,” he answers while he critically eyes the dress. “I don’t think this one’s going to work.”

“Yeah, I’m not thrilled with the skirt and pink really isn’t my color,” she agrees as she turns to head back to the small changing area. “So he’s in lust, that’s not something you can build a relationship on.”

“How about you? How do you feel when you see him?” he asks, following in her wake.

“Just thinking about his kiss makes my skin tingle,” she admits after she’s closes the door. “If I don’t hear from him in more than twenty-four hours I get depressed. Will you listen to me? I sound like some hormonal teenager.”

“You’re both crazy about each other, that’s a start,” he says as leans against the wall waiting for her.

“But what happens when the passion burns out?” she questions while she gets out of the pink chiffon thing she was wearing. “What’s left?”

“When you two are together do you just make out and nothing else?” he inquires.

“No,” she answers as she hangs the dress back up.

“What do you do?” he questions.

“We talk,” she replies while she takes the next dress off of its hanger.

“About…?” he prompts.

“I don’t know, different things,” she responds as she examines the outfit she’s holding. “About our families, what life was like growing up, our jobs, you know, stuff.”

“See there’s more there than lust,” he points out. “I think these past couple weeks that you two have been apart have been good for you.”

“Tell that to my sanity,” she retorts. “I’m not sure I’m going to be able to make it to next Friday.”

“You’ll be fine,” he tells her. “What’s taking so long?”

“I’m trying to get into this dress,” comes her muffled answer. “There are about fifty straps on this thing.”

“Oh, is that the backless number?” he asks excitedly.

“Yeah, but it’s a pain in the ass to get into,” she replies with a grunt. “There! Finally got the blasted thing on.”

“Well, let’s see it,” he nearly orders, standing up straight again.

“Just a sec, I’m still adjusting all of these straps,” she says and there’s several seconds of silence. “Ok, I think I’ve got it.

A moment later the door opens and she comes out and his jaw drops. He stares at her in stunned silence as she walks past him to the mirrors. She turns to look at the back of the dress over her shoulder and then turns back to face her reflection as he stands there a bit behind her with his mouth still hanging open.

“I’m not sure if stunning a gay man speechless is a good thing or a bad thing,” she jokes as he steps up behind her and puts his hands on her shoulders.

“Sugar, if he doesn’t make slow, sweet love to you after seeing you in this dress, he’s gay,” he states breathlessly and then he perks right up. “And if that’s the case, can I have him?”

She elbows him in the gut and he gives out a grunt before stepping back with a stupid grin on his face.

“So, you think this is the one?” she asks as she turns around again.

“This is definitely the one,” he assures her while she heads back to the dressing room.

“Good, ‘cause I’m sick of trying on dresses,” she admits. “Thank God that’s done.”

“Now all we need to do is get all the accessories to go with it,” he happily chirps and she groans.

“You know, if he gets all hot and bothered from seeing this dress, we might not get out of the hotel,” she points out as she steps back into the dressing room. “And if that’s the case, why bother wasting the money on the dress? I might as well stop by Fredrick’s of Hollywood and get something from there.”

“You’re right, he can’t be allowed to see the dress until you get to the party,” he replies as he starts to pace outside the dressing room door. “Ok, I’ve got an idea.”

“Which is?” she prompts from behind the closed door.

“I’ll show you later,” he replies. “Now come on, we still need to get shoes and things.”

“At least I won’t have to worry about getting a new bra,” she muses as lets the dress fall from her shoulders and tries not to think about Hank doing it for her in a week.

“Oh, you should get those stick on ones that way you’re not bouncing all over the place,” he tells her.

“I don’t have enough boobs be bouncing all over the place,” she retorts as she quickly puts the dress back on its hanger.

“You aren’t flat, sugar,” he assures her.

“I’m no Dolly Parton either,” she retorts.

“Who would want to be?” he asks. “You’d always be in danger of falling over. But you should have something underneath that dress.”

“Ok, I’ll get a couple of king sized band aids and we’ll call it even,” she says as she pulls her own clothes on.

“Very funny, girlfriend,” he snorts.

“Hey, is it my fault the Boob Fairy passed me over when I hit puberty?” she asks while putting her shoes on.

“The Boob Fairy?” he laughs.

She emerges from the dressing room with the dress in her arms and a grin on her face. He just shakes his head, drapes an arm across her shoulders and heads her towards the register.

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“I can’t believe I let you talk me into getting that negligee,” she grumbles as they leave the mall hours later, both weighed down with their purchases.

“You’ll thank me later,” he says confidently as they make their way across the parking lot.

“And what do you think Hank will do when he finds out this was your idea?” she asks.

“He’ll kiss my feet,” he boldly states. “That’s of course after he manages to climb out of bed after he makes love to you for hours on end.”

“Is that all you can think about?” she demands. “Sex.”

“Well, someone has to since you’re too terrified to,” he retorts as he unlocks the trunk of his car with the remote.

“Considering my track record, can you blame me?” she questions.

“No, but records are made to be broken,” he replies as he helps her stow her packages. “Give him a chance, Amy. He may be the one.”

“God, I hope you’re right,” she sighs and then turns to get in the car, wondering where this is all heading.

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It’s been nearly three weeks since he’s seen her, their jobs and the insanity of the holiday season keeping them apart. Emails and phone calls have been their only form of contact since she moved and it’s driven him to near distraction. The fact that she now lives only a few blocks away doesn’t help either and then there’s the matter of his little project that he had hoped to have completed by now.

There have been more failures then he cares to admit and it’s frustrating beyond words, even for him. If this test run doesn’t succeed, he’s not sure what he’s going to do. So, with more stress and frustration than he’s used to, he returns to his apartment and immediately realizes he’s not alone. He quietly closes the door and steps into the family room, not bothering with a light.

“Did it work?” Hank asks, no longer daring to hope and waiting for the inevitable ‘non’.

“Oui,” the shadow answers and Hank doesn’t believe his ears.

“It actually worked?” Hank questions, disbelievingly.

“Dat iz what Remy say, non?” Remy replies with a chuckle.

“It most certainly is,” Hank responds as he leans against a wall in relief. “Thank you, Gambit.”

“A friend of Stormy’s iz a friend of Remy’s, so any time,” Remy says just before he disappears through the window.

As soon as he’s sure the thief is gone, Hank turns on a light and finds the small box on the coffee table. He picks it up and opens it, the little golden treasure inside glitters benignly. He resists the urge to kiss it and goes to get it ready for its intended recipient.

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“Damn,” Amanda mutters as she drops yet another file, spilling papers all over the floor.

“Anything the matter?” Mr. Jones asks as he steps into her office, a cursory knock on her open door.

“No, I just seem to be all thumbs today,” she grumbles as she bends down to pick up the file she dropped.

“How long has it been since you’ve seen him?” he questions as he gets down and helps her pick up the papers.

“Almost three weeks,” she answers, her hands shaking, making it difficult to pick up the papers strewn across her floor.

“When’s he supposed to get here?” he inquires, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Oh, eventually,” she replies nervously.

“Uh-huh,” he smirks. “When?”

“One hour and twenty-two minutes,” she mumbles under her breath.

“Good,” he says as the last piece of paper is retrieved and handed back to her. “Then you can stop being as jumpy as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. If you’re this jumpy after only a few weeks, I’d hate to see what you’ll be like when he goes on some diplomatic trip over seas for a few months.”

“It’s not so much that I haven’t seen him, it’s just that…well…,” she stammers.

“What is it?” he asks.

“It’s just that Mr. Steele and Hank…,” she tries to answer and he nods.

“I talked to Steven a little while ago, I strongly recommended that he leave a bit early,” he tells her and she looks at him in surprise. “As we speak, he’s in his office getting ready to leave.”

“Thank you,” she sighs with relief.

“Any time, my dear, any time,” he smiles as he gets to his feet and leaves a much more relaxed woman behind.

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After freshening up in the bathroom, she heads back to her office and as she’s passing the lunch room, a pair of arms reaches out and grabs her. Before she can make a sound, she’s pulled flush with a body she knows even though she hasn’t seen or felt it in nearly three weeks. With a sigh, she relaxes against him and reaches up to sink her fingers into his mane.

“Miss me?” he purrs next to her ear, sending delightful shivers throughout her body.

“More than should legally be allowed,” she whispers and he chuckles.

“Ready to go?” he asks, rubbing his cheek against hers.

“Yeah,” she sighs, leaning against him and closing her eyes.

“Then don’t you think we should get going?” he questions, amusement toning his words.

“Eventually,” she hums as her fingers work their way down to his skin and she gently starts to scratch him there, causing his own case of shivers to cause havoc on his person.

He knows he should get her moving before he does something completely inappropriate in the room where people eat their lunches, but her nails are continuing their assault on his senses and it’s getting harder to think. He knows he needs to remove her hands if he wants to have any hope of keeping the situation under control. He knows it, the problem is doing it.

He slides his hands across her belly and up her sides, gently caressing the small bit of skin exposed by her blouse pulling out of her slacks when she lifted her arms up. She lets out a startled squeak and her arms come down at record speed, pinning his hands between them and her sides. His surprise is only exceeded by his confusion, especially when she glares at him from over her shoulder.

“No fair tickling,” she playfully snarls and he chuckles as he takes a hold of her sides in his large hands.

“All’s fair in love and war, my dear,” he says in a low rumbling voice and a shiver runs down her spine down to straight between her legs. “But if we wish to make DC before dawn, we should get going soon.”

“I suppose,” she sighs as she steps away and he reluctantly lets her go. “I guess jumping you in the lunch room isn’t the best career choice.”

“Only if Mr. Steele was still here,” he replies as he follows her back to her office. “I have a feeling the others would be running for their cameras.

“Thank heaven Mr. Jones convinced him to leave early,” she replies as they step into her office. “Let me grab my purse and coat and then we can skedaddle.”

He calmly watches her gather her things, but when she bends over at the waist to get her purse from the bottom drawer of her desk, he lets out an involuntary groan.

“Are you alright?” she asks in concern as she straightens up.

“Oh, I’m fine,” he answers in a slightly strained voice. “But we’d best be going before I find out whether or not your office door locks from the inside or out.”

“Well, since you put it that way,” she replies with a knowing smirk.

She saunters past him, brushing herself against him as she goes and it takes every ounce of self restraint not to grab her, throw her over his shoulder and run out of the building with her that way.

“You’re playing with fire, my dear,” he warns with a sexy growl as she locks her office door.

“Good, it’ll keep me warm,” she tosses back at him as she turns and walks away with hips swaying.

Mate! Beast nearly roars and Hank quickly gets a handle on his primal self.

With exaggerated calm, he follows her out to the lobby where he finds her patiently waiting. With a hand on the small of her back, he carefully escorts her to the elevators. By shear luck, the car is empty when it arrives and they step inside as she reaches out and makes the floor selection.

As soon as the doors slide shut, she finds herself pressed against a wall by a mass of blue fur and his lips on hers. She gladly returns the affection as her body easily responds to him, but they have to quickly part when the elevator stops after only a few floors to take on more passengers. The new comers look at Hank in surprise, but say nothing as they turn around and face the doors. She’s nearly panting while he has a very self satisfied look on his face and she knows that in a little over twenty-four hours, that’s the look she’ll be wearing.

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Oui – French, yes