A fly buzzed lazily at the windshield, soaking up the late afternoon sun. Logan tipped his beat-up Stetson back on his head. He wasn’t sure what startled him awake, but he knew where he was at.
The Southern United States. The place had the smell of the swamps and low tide, with a hint of magnolia thrown in. It was late spring by the temperature of the truck cab and slant of the sun. He took it all in for a moment. It had been a long time since anything but rot and decay had filled his nostrils.
Sitting up from where he was slouched, dozing, he surveyed his surroundings. The area looked like what he remembered of an older Southern town from before the sentinels and the war. A few scattered houses of varying types on the outskirts of a town only a couple of hundred people strong. The roads were hard packed sandy dirt with no sidewalks or streetlights. A lonely, forgotten place to be sure.
The big question was, what was he doing here?
A quick search of the cab revealed few clues. Little I.D. beyond what was needed to buy beer or pass muster for the police was in the glove box. The bare essentials for traveling occupied his go bag, though he sniffed out a couple thousand in cash secured under the seat. The pickup itself was a couple decades old and beat up just enough to not draw attention.
Getting out to stretch his legs, he caught the scent. It was faint but obvious to him, as imprinted as it was on his brain and ingrained in every fiber of his being. Marie was somewhere nearby.
Turning his nose into what little breeze there was, he followed the scent to the end of the street. The last house was barely more than a shack. But better than any place he’d held up in recently. More along the lines of a place he would have used while on the move before the war. A simple shotgun house with its one window and door staring out from a small porch.
Marie was definitely inside if her scent was to be believed and he’d never been wrong about a scent, especially hers. On the porch, he raised a hand to knock on the screen door. It worried him that he’d been parked so far away if they lived here or even if he was visiting. Maybe he’d wanted to surprise her, but then why nap?
His thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of a shadowy figure in the interior of the house. “Come on in. You’re in time for supper.”
Logan’s senses told him what he saw was all there was to this. Marie, in a small house, putting supper on the table. The screen door creaked when he opened it, and he thought after supper he should offer to oil it for her.
Looking around the small living room, he was amazed there was room for him let alone the love seat, rocker, and bookcase. There was a coat rack next to the door and he hung up his old cowboy hat.
The living room ended in a half wall that allowed him to see into the kitchen which was just as small. The stove and refrigerator took most of the space up on one side and an old formica kitchen table shoved against the opposite wall. An open door led further back into a bedroom.
Marie turned from the table where she’d set down plates and smiled. “There’s beer in the fridge,” she said, walking back to the stove.
He waited for her to fill the gravy boat so he wouldn’t bump her with the fridge door. There was a six-pack of bottles from some little specialty brewery. “Huh."
“Yeah sorry about that. Can’t find Molson around here easily. It’s never really been the same since it merged with Coors, anyway.” She tapped the side of her head, indicating his old memories.
Didn’t matter anyway, he hadn’t had a beer in years. The last drink he had was some camp hooch that made him go blind for a few seconds. The brewer never got a chance to clarify that batch for everyone else before they were forced to abandon camp and it was left behind.
Logan sat down across the little table from Marie. His plate was piled high with steak, potatoes, and some baby carrot thing. All he could do was stare at it for a minute and think of how this all seemed too normal. Pulling up a seat in a sunny kitchen to a well-cooked meal, when many of the ones he’d eaten lately were barely cooked, if there was anything to eat at all.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, concern evident on her face.
“No,” he answered with a smile. Taking a bite of the potatoes, he continued, “It’s real good. Bet the pie you baked is even better.”
He took her blush as a positive sign that this was all coming together nicely and made a mental note to compliment her more often. Not that he didn’t in the past but ‘nice shot, darlin’ was a little different from the type he would need to use now. The shy smile also told him he didn’t compliment her much in this timeline and since she had always been beautiful, especially when she blushed, he’d need to work on that. However; that would have to wait until after he ate. He’d understated how good it was by a mile and had no doubt after a slice of pie that he would never grow tired of her cooking.
When he was finished, he took his plate to the sink where she’d started the water to wash the dishes. Nudging her over, he scrubbed while she dried and gave him an incredulous glance. In the end, she huffed but put away the dishes as he rinsed the sink. There was a feeling that, like the compliment, he didn’t help clean much either.
Leaning back against the counter, he watched her finish wiping things down. This was exactly the sort of life they’d hoped to have after the war. One that had seemed impossible at the time, and here he’d just been plopped down in the middle of it. He was actively trying to ignore the little voice that wasn’t too keen on the situation. It was too easy, the voice warned.
Finally, Marie was satisfied with how clean the counters were and leaned back next to him. It was like she had a question on the tip of her tongue, but didn’t know how to ask it. There was also the weird apprehension in the air between them. Obviously, they weren’t quite settled into this part of a relationship and he wondered what their relationship was. He’d need to work through this to find out.
“Did you have much trouble finding me?” she asked.
It was a leading question that wasn’t really the one she wanted to know the answer to. He shrugged as he didn’t know how good of directions she’d given and tried to drown out that warning again.
In an attempt to keep the conversation going, he went with a compliment instead. “You’re looking good.” He was rewarded with another blush.
“You look well,” she replied. “As always.”
Logan snorted. He’d caught his reflection in the rearview mirror and saw the gray at his temples. “Now you’re fibbing.”
She gave him an odd laugh. “The gray suits you. Not that I could ever imagine you getting old.”
Unconsciously, he’d leaned in closer to her and couldn’t help but reach out and wind her silver streak around his finger. He was curious if she’d received it the same way in this timeline as the other. Did they share that same bond?
He wanted to tell her how beautiful she truly was. How he loved being so close to her, wanted to make her happy. Yet he was speechless with all his senses being blocked up by her. Her scent was almost the same, just slightly different undertones, possibly her soap or the cinnamon from the pie. There was an overwhelming urge to lick at her neck to make sure, but he restrained himself.
Inhaling deeply to lodge the differences in his brain, he couldn’t help but notice the way her skin goose bumped or the hitch in her breathing. Her scent changed subtly, becoming more alluring as she turned her face to his. She searched his face for something and he tried to let what he couldn’t say show.
He placed a soft kiss to her lips with no urgency, only inquiring of her interest. Pulling away slightly, he saw the confusion and desire warring in her eyes. Her unasked question lay heavy between them. Marie pressed her lips to his with the same inquiring manner.
Deepening the kiss, he slipped a hand to the small of her back, drawing her closer. Her scent thickened as she opened her lips to this tongue. A hand rested tentatively over his heart, a tremor running through her entire body.
She broke away, breathing heavily. Logan could see the confusion had left her and was a clearness of purpose there now. Taking his hand, she walked them through the doorway into the bedroom.
The bedroom was just as cramped with the bed taking up most of the space. A shelving unit and rack stood in for a closet. He had a good guess as to why she’d brought him here, but he didn’t want to push his luck at how quickly things were coming together. He would let Marie take command of the situation as she’d done fine so far.
Her hands slid up under his t-shirt, pushing it up to his arms. Taking the hint, he took it off. She followed suit, taking off her shirt and bra before pulling him in for a kiss. His tongue explored her mouth while her hands did the same with his chest. When she broke away and finished undressing, he did the same.
They stood there a moment, and he knew she was trying to match up what she expected with the naked man before her. For his part, she was much as he remembered, with only a couple of scars that intrigued him. Logan finally raised a questioning eyebrow. “Meet your approval?”
Marie blushed. “Yeah… I just never… you know, that we…” She was stammering and turning a deeper shade of red.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, changing the subject. For a second he thought she might cry, but pulled him down onto the bed with her instead.
As he lay beside her, he took his time touching her the same way he kissed her. He wondered if everything he knew about Marie still applied. Would she gasp when he licked the spot under her ear? Would grinding into her with that specific twist send her over the edge every damn time? Would she still murmur her love for him before falling asleep?
There was only one way to find out. With a slow practiced hand, he skated his fingers across her belly, caressing her hip, tangling them in her curls. She didn’t gasp after he broke the kiss and licked underneath her ear, but to be fair, she was breathless at the time. Yet the moan from her lips when he drug his stubbly cheek down the column of her throat sufficed.
He circled a finger around her clit, and she bucked into his hand. Whatever other plans he had for relearning her curves, she put an end to them. She scooted closer and nudged him until he gave up and kneeled over her. Logan could feel her apprehension and proceeded carefully.
Being attentive, he watched for any signs he should stop as he slipped into her. Marie held her breath but smiled at him when he was sheathed to the hilt. She scratched her nails through his sideburns before pulling him down for a kiss.
He wished he could say he continued with the same unhurried motions, but the way her hands roamed his back and the sounds she made drove him. There had been a fear, despite what he’d told her, some doubt about ever being able to do this with her again. That in turn made his rhythm far from leisurely and he couldn’t maintain the kiss. Her eyes were on his, pleading for release.
Grinding into her, she gasped, digging her fingertips into his flesh. He felt the beginnings of a flutter and clenched his jaw when she convulsed around him. It didn’t make a difference as he lost his rhythm and jerkily spilled himself into her.
Later he watched her sleep. He was glad to have Marie back in his arms, yet he knew it was way too easy. They’d barely talked, and this set up and the silence left more questions than it answered. Didn’t matter, they were together now, he would find a way to make this work.
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Story Notes:
A big thank you to RogueLotus and Nebelwerfer42. Title comes from “You’re Somebody Else” by Flora Cash. This follows Subcutaneous Severance in the Wait for Me series.