Chapter Text
Peter waited anxiously at the gate at the airport. It'd been over a month since he had seen her last. He had left to tour Europe and their last words to each other were in anger and frustration. The memory had left him with heavy heart and a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"This is why I don't date musicians," She said before she stormed away from him, echoing a sentiment she held since the first night he met her at The Odeon in Cleveland, Ohio.
Despite his best efforts the only words he could seem to pull from those pale pink lips of hers were that she didn't date musicians. Still, he didn't give up, and eventually he convinced her to change her mind and to give him a chance.
He didn't know what it was about her that drove him wild, really. She was just so different compared to the goth groupies that haunted his shows and would line up outside his dressing room door in their fishnets, vinyl dresses, and painted black locks. This girl was different. Her fair skin was like cream, but she didn't embellish it with make-up, and her vibrant red hair fell in loose waves down along her back. She was very pretty in a girl next door type of way. Not like a groupie at all.
Despite the fact he managed to change her mind and give him a chance, it never really felt like she was really his. There was always something in the way, almost like she was haunted by a memory that left part of her closed off from him, a memory that haunted her seafoam eyes.
Peter watched as passengers exited the gate, looking for her familiar ginger locks. As the crowd dispersing from the gate thinned he felt a lump in his throat and began to lose hope. Maybe she wasn't coming after all. Maybe she was still mad.
He didn't even remember what they were fighting about.
A sigh escaped his lips as he began to turn away when out of the corner of his eye he saw her coming out the gate. Her ruby locks were tied up in a high pony tail. She wore an army green jacket over a form fitting black v-neck shirt, jeans, and a pair of black biker boots. Her eyes locked with his as she approached him, squaring her jaw as her icy gaze held his.
"My angel," He whispered as she stood before him looking up at him. He towered over her and he stroked her porcelain cheek with the tips of his fingers. She closed her eyes at his touch and inhaled. She dropped her bag as he pulled her up into his arms, lifting her effortlessly like a doll as he clutched her against his chest.
"Behemoth," She murmured back and he gave a chuckle. It was a decidedly good sign she chose to address him by the nickname she had bestowed upon him.
He set her down again and cupped her cheek with his hand again, running his thumb along her pink bottom lip before he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. He felt as she wrapped her arms around his neck and he wanted to pull her up in his arms again, but he resisted the urge. He had a plan for their reunion and he didn't want to mess things up by being too hasty. He broke their kiss and grabbed up her bag for her before rising to full towering height.
"Come, Angel," He said as he took her hand and lead the way toward the exit of the airport. They grabbed a cab and headed back to Peter's hotel room so she could freshen up.
She disappeared into the bathroom and showered as Peter sat on the bed and waited anxiously. He wanted to get into the hot steam with her, but he waited. He wanted things to be perfect and go according to plan. He had taken the time to set things up before he went to meet her at the airport and hoped to himself that everything would be just the way he had left it.
"So where are you taking me, anyway?" She called from the bathroom. She had left the door a jar as she readied herself.
"It's a surprise, Angel," He responded. He heard her switch on the hair dryer. He pressed his lips together in anticipation.
Soon she emerged from the bathroom wearing a dark green lace dress, with more make-up around her eyes than usual, her lips were stained dark red, like wine, and her hair fell in loose, wild waves. It was as if his world was merging with hers and he felt his heart swell because of it.
Maybe one day she would be his.
Peter stood up and strode before her, "Angel, you look so..."
"Too much?" She asked with a hint of a smile and subtle shrug of her shoulders.
"Gorgeous," Peter whispered as he lifted her chin up with the knuckle of his forefinger and the pad of his thumb.
Her smile broadened at his words, but then she stepped away, walking to her bag that was sitting on the bed. She reached in and pulled out a pair of black Mary Janes styled pumps.
"We are going to have to walk a ways. Will you be alright?" Peter asked.
"Sure, I'll be fine," She turned to him and with a mischievous smile she winked at him and said, "If all else fails you'll carry me, right?"
Peter grinned back at her, "Of course, Angel."
They left the room and made their ways down the elevator and out the doors of the hotel. They turned and walked down the Paris street together as a warm autumn breeze blew through the tendrils of their hair. Peter felt her loop her arm through his and he glanced down at her, first with a smile that faded into a look of concern.
"Are you alright, Angel?"
She let out a shaky breath before she looked up at him with a smile that held a hint of sadness.
"I was...just remembering my last trip to Paris and..." She looked up and met his gaze with watery eyes, but then smiled again, "I'm fine now. It just wasn't a good trip."
Peter nodded. He wanted to know more. For a moment he thought she was going to open up to him and share what was in her heart. He didn't push it, though, "Well, maybe we can replace the bad memories with some good ones."
"Yes, I'd like that," She agreed, and tightened her grip on his arm and they continued their walk.
Soon they were met by large stone walls. In the center there was a large green gate that hung open. Peter continued to guide her through the entrance. Inside there was a cemetery.
"Cimetière du Pere Lachaise," Peter stated as he moved his arm to wrap it around her waist, "One of the most beautiful cemeteries in the world. Full of beautiful gardens and architecture," He glanced down at her again, "I know you like architecture."
"I really do," She whispered as they walked looking around wide eyed, "Peter, this place is beautiful."
"Yes, well, there's more, Angel. Come, this way. I snuck us a spot," Peter steered her to the left and they walked past tomb stones, mausoleums, and other monuments carefully crafted from stones.
Once they walked past one mausoleum in particular they saw a tree that had leaves changing to vibrant shades of yellow and orange in time with the season. Beneath the tree there was a blanket waiting with a large picnic basket. She stopped and gasped, "Peter, you did this?"
"Yes, Angel," He said stopping with her and turning to her and cupping her cheek again, "I wanted this to be perfect. Whatever it was that I did that upset you when I left, I wanted to let you know how sorry I am."
"Peter," She breathed his name and lowered her head as she took in a breath. She looked back up to meet his gaze and blinked back tears, "It wasn't you. It was just you going on tour and..."
"And what?" He encouraged her to continue.
She pressed her lips together for a moment as she held his gaze, "I just knew how much I'd miss you."
Peter couldn't help but feel the corners of his lips turn up into a smile, but he could sense she was holding back the full truth. Still, he decided not to press the matter. He had her with him and just wanted to relish in her presence. He guided her toward the picnic he had set up for them, relieved it had remained undisturbed.
She knelt onto the soft fabric of the blanket and tossed her wavy red hair over her shoulder, a smile teasing her lips and she watched him crouch down and sit next to her. Peter flipped open the lid of the picnic basket and pulled out two wine glasses, one of which he handed to her, and a bottle of wine.
"Red for my red girl," Peter stated and popped open the bottle of wine.
She held the glass steady as he poured into her glass. The wine was such a deep shade of red it almost looked black. He then poured his own glass before recorking the bottle and carefully setting it to the side. He then turned to her and clinked his glass against her, his eyes burning into hers, "To us, Angel."
She bit her lip as she looked at him, a smile creeping on the corners of her lips before she responded, "I'll drink to that, Behemoth."
They both took a sip of their wine. Peter swallowed before he leaned forward and began pulling out two plates and cloth napkins. He then pulled out cheeses, grapes, a baguette, and chocolates for the two of them to share.
"Just a snack, Angel," He assured her with a wink as he watched her bring a slice of cheese to her lips, "I'm taking you to nice dinner later."
"Peter," She whispered his name in a way that gave him chills as she looked at the picnic before them and then back up at him, "You're too good...I don't deserve all this."
"Yes, Angel," He then said as leaned toward her, cradling that back of her head with his hand as he did, "You do."
He brushed his lips against hers once again before releasing her and leaned back toward the picnic basket, pulling one final item out, a black book. She leaned towards him and read the words etched into the cover, "The Complete Works of Edgar Allan Poe."
"Care if I read a few to you?" He asked with a smirk on his lips.
"I could listen to your voice all day," she grinned.
Peter leaned his back up against the tree as she cuddled up to his side. She had long since discarded her heels. She sipped on her glass of wine as he listened to him read in his deep, comforting voice 'Annabel Lee.' Her breathing grew steady as the combination of the wine warming her body mixed with the soothing tone of his voice. She dozed off when suddenly a loud crack of thunder made her jump out of her skin.
"Oh, fuck," Peter cursed as drops of rain began to fall from the sky.
She leapt to her feet and gulped down the remainder of the wine before helping him gather up the items into the picnic basket. Peter grabbed up the basket and blanket as she grabbed her shoes in her hands and they ran.
"There!" She pointed at a white building. Peter gave a nod and together they ran to the building.
"What is this?" Peter asked as they reached the building and got underneath the overhanging arch before the front door.
"The chapel, I think," she responded as she caught her breath.
Peter grabbed the handle of the door but it wouldn't budge. He turned to her and gave her a shrug and called above the sound of the pouring rain, "Locked. Damn, date ruined."
She let out a giggle as she watched him and responded, "Not at all." She dropped her shoes to the cement ground of the step of the building as she looked up at him, her eyes glowing at him as she smiled, "Come here, Behemoth."
Peter studied her for a moment before setting the blanket and basket down. He then stepped toward her. She then bit her bottom lip as she looked at him and grabbed him around his waist, pulling him closer to her. He pressed body up against hers, pushing her up against the wall of the arch. She rose up on her tiptoes as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Peter leaned down to meet her lips and they kissed, her lips tasting like the wine they had consumed. He could feel as she released a shaky breath before she pulled him in to kiss her again. Her arms released his neck as her hands trailed along his chest and torso feeling the muscles of his body through the damp fabric of his green shirt.
Peter parted his lips against hers and felt as her tongue flicked against his. He let out a groan as he could feel himself grow hard in his pants as her body pressed against him. He planted one of his arms against the cold, hard rock of the arch as his other hand cupped her breast over the lace of her dress. She let out a moan as he massaged it with his hand.
Their lips parted and he rested his forehead against hers and he heard her whisper, "Don't stop."
He then pulled her towards him and reached up around her back and his fingers found the zipper of her dress. He pulled it down just enough so he could pull the neckline of her dress from her shoulders and off her tits, exposing the black silky bra beneath. He then hooked his thumb in the strap of her bra and lowered it down her shoulder. He kissed the exposed skin of her neck and shoulder before he pulled her breast from the cup of her bra, her pale pink nipple hardening with esposure. He brushed his lips against the mound of flesh before sucking it between his lips.
She arched her back as she let out a cry of desire, tangling her fingers in his silky raven hair before breathing his name again.
He released her nipple from his lips and pressed her back against the wall of the arch. One hand toyed with her exposed nipple as the other reached down and pulled the hem of her dress up as his eyes burned into hers. His hand ran up against her thigh before finding the silky fabric of the thong beneath. He felt that she was wet with desire as he brushed his fingers along the fabric, causing her to gasp his name again.
He felt as she leaned forward and attempted to reach his belt. She whimpered in frustration as the angle and his height wouldn't allow her to do so. He chuckled as he released her breast and reached his other hand beneath the hem of her dress. He hooked his fingers on the thin fabric beneath and pulled the thong down to her knees. He straightened up this his full height and she grabbed for his belt once again, this time successfully, unbuckling it before undoing his pants. He let out a grunt as his member sprang free of its tight confines.
With the pads of her fingers she stroked the head as she looked up at him with a smirk. He glanced to the ground to see she had let the black thong drop to the ground. He smirked back down at her before he leaned down and grabbed her thighs, lifting her up and pinning her against the wall.
"Peter," Her voiced trembled with anticipation winding her arms around his neck, "Please."
He pushed his lips against hers again in a deep kiss as he circled his hips, rubbing himself against her heat. He almost couldn't stand it. It had been so long. Slowly he pushed himself into her tight wet folds and she cried out into his mouth. He pulled back and pushed back in again, getting a little deeper with each thrust.
"Peter," She whispered as he released her lips and she turned her face into his neck and breathed, "God, you feel so good."
"Fuck," Peter growled as he pushed into her, thrusting harder and faster, bucking into her right up against wall.
"Peter!" She cried again, "I'm gonna- oh, God!"
Peter felt as her muscles contracted around him and her body trembled, let out a scream that was drowned out by the pouring rain. Feeling her sent him over the edge as he gave one final thrust, releasing himself inside her. He clutched her to him as he finished, his chest heaving with deep breaths. Once he caught his breath he carefully set her down. Her legs were shaky as she leaned into him with a satisfied hum.
Peter sighed and held her tightly against his chest, "I love you."
She took in sharp breath. Though the rain masked the sound, he felt it in her body. And though he felt a pang in his chest he already knew she didn't love him back, at least not the same way.
He drew back and looked down at her, lifting her chin to his gaze once again, "It's okay. I already know. But, if I could get you to move to Brooklyn when I get back from tour, maybe I can change that."
She inhaled deeply again as tears brimmed her eyes causing them to glow. She shook her head, "I've told you, that's where I ran away from."
"Whatever you ran away from, I could protect you from it," Peter caressed her cheek.
"It wasn't like that," She whispered as she shifted, pulling her bra and dress back up over her breasts and shoulders, "I just...I can't go back."
"I try to understand," Peter sighed, "But you don't make it easy."
"I'm sorry, Peter," She whispered but offered no answers and began to turn from him.
Peter stopped her and gave her a sad smile, "I guess I'm just doomed for you to be the ice-queen of my heart, Elizabeth Graves."