For Love of Reliability

A/N: BlueVixen, no honey, no. Missing House? That’s just wrong—blaspheme. But thanks; it’s a huge compliment. I would also like to pass out love to Chrono, who has been with me since the beginning, SkittleSama, who takes no pains to curb enthusiasm, and Jazmine, new blood.

Sorry. It took longer to get this out than I had hoped; I had some trouble with the last part. I know I haven’t been very reliable while writing this, and I’d like to thank everyone who was patient and stuck with me anyway. Somehow, what started as a quick little blurb became a very difficult story to make work.

This is the end of the fic. I had fun with it and with the Digimon characters, but I think I’m done writing Digimon stories for now. I’m just out of ideas and inspiration and I’d like to try something new. I want to thank all my readers and reviewers for their support: Reisu, BlueVixen, SassieLassie, AnimeBabesGoneWildWithMe, SkittleSama, Chrono, Cha-cha-cha, ChEzA, CANDY PeRvErSiOn, JuLiA, Dark Alchemist, HeAvEnLy BLiSS, and Jazmine. I’d also like to thank Logan, who has sent his reviews to me via e-mail.

Yours with gratitude,
Rienna


Chapter Three: Retrieving the Barrel

What a goddamned pissant, she fumed. Tears were flowing from her eyes with such force they continued down her neck. The further she got from the hospital the harder she cried and the angrier she became.

What was she doing here? He couldn’t possibly be worth this. She didn’t want to die—especially not here, and even more especially not of a flu that would make her insides hemorrhage until she bled to death internally. That just sounded painful and completely unnecessary—she had learned her lesson: romantic gestures and elaborate seductions had no effect on jackass pragmatists who thought it was funny that her blow-dryer’s plug wouldn’t fit into the foreign power outlet.

She was straining to hear footsteps behind her. He was coming—she knew he was coming. He had to. If he didn’t . . . . Her heart clenched, spurring another wave of tears. If he didn’t, then she was alone.

Mimi’s foot almost slid out from under her in the mud. She wobbled wildly and regained her balance. Damn, that had been close. She had to stop crying—she couldn’t see where she was going. Though, at least her near-fall had done one good deed, jolting the hiccups right out of her. She was thoroughly glad for it; crying with hiccups racking her throat really hurt.

It was then that she heard them—rapid thumps tearing into the mud behind her. The relief that washed over her was so intense, she actually felt herself tremble and release a shaking breath. Fresh tears rolled from her eyes and she turned just in time to see him slide to a halt next to her, panting.

She swatted him fiercely in the arm. “Damn it Jyou, what took you so long?” Then her eyes widened. The left side of his body was dripping with watery mud, an eye hidden behind the caked screen of a glass lens. “What happened?”

The skin which was not covered or splattered with gunk went pink under her gaze. “I fell.”

“You fell?”

“The mud is . . . slippery. A-and I had to tell Kiyoshi to page me when he got the results, and tell Midori where I was going.”

“Midori?” Mimi huffed a breath through flared nostrils. “Why do you have to tell her anything?” On some level, she knew she was being a little absurd and a lot unreasonable, but mostly, Mimi was just unloading all her frustration, exhaustion, and hurt feelings, in whatever way she could at the feet of the person she blamed for all of it. She had snapped—in a big way.

Jyou, trying to wipe grime from himself, looked at her. “She’s my partner, Mimi. She’s back at work now without me and I thought she’d like to know why.”

Mimi spun and started walking. “Partner?” she spat the word as though it were something dirty. Stopping as abruptly as she had started and sticking a finger into a startled, following Jyou’s chest, she demanded, “Are you so uninterested in me because you’re plugging her?”

Jyou was shocked. “What? No.”

“But you like her,” Mimi persisted.

He looked trapped—he was trapped. “N-not the way I like you.”

Mimi drove her heel down on his foot and started walking again. Well, that was the wrong answer on every level. Did that butthead just say he “liked” her?

“Whoa,” Jyou limped after her, “what is this conversation, Mimi? You’re behaving like a—” she whirled and glared at him “—never mind.”

“Look at me, Jyou. I’m one pissed off and confused girl. You see, I came 2700 miles to be with this guy, and he won’t touch me or spend time with me—he barely talks to me. I wasn’t the best girlfriend to him, but I’ve told him lots of times I’m real sorry about that. Somehow, that’s not enough, nothing I’ve tried is enough—it’s a big fun puzzle, and normally I wouldn’t mind working on it a while longer. But now, see, I just found out I might be dying, and I’m really not in the mood to stroke his fucking ego anymore.”

Jyou sighed. “I’m sorry, Mimi. I realize I haven’t been entirely fair to you. I have forgiven you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“If you’ve forgiven me, how come we aren’t together?”

“Mimi, we’re not back together because I stand by what I said the night you came—we were a bad fit. There’s no point in trying to build something we’re just going to have to tear down in a few months.”

Mimi wanted to shove him. “No point? Jyou, I love you.”

“Mimi, don’t make this into something it’s not.”

Now she wanted to hit him. Then she wanted to sit down in the mud and ball her eyes out. How could he say that to her? When she had first realized she loved Jyou (a week after he’d left when she discovered one of his ties under her bed and caught herself rubbing it against her cheek), the epiphany had slapped her in the face. It was something she had guarded, something she had been terrified to reveal, because it showed him just how vulnerable she was where he was concerned. She had finally gathered the courage to let it slip past her lips . . . and he didn’t believe her.

“Listen to me, Jyou,” she ground between clenched teeth—she was damn tired of this, “because I’m only going to tell you this once. I may be a little spoiled and silly, I may be on the shallow side, and next to yours, my education is a joke, but I am not an idiot and I am not a little girl. I love you and I want to be with you—not on a whim or a delusion. I’ve dated guys richer than you, better looking than you, certainly a lot more fun than you, and I would never have followed any of them into a goddamned quarantine, so don’t you dare tell me I’m making this into something it’s not!”

Her eyes, heated with rage, watched him absorb what she had just said.

He seemed to be having trouble linking two words together, saying what he was trying to say. His voice was faint and caught in his throat, and she almost thought she was missing words because she simply couldn’t hear them. “Mimi . . . I . . . .” he said lamely. After a moment, he swallowed deeply and spoke, shaking his head. “We can’t do this again.” The words sounded like a broken fragment of a shield held up illogically by reflex in a last ditch attempt at protection.

Mimi made a noise of vexation. “Knock it off, Jyou. You’re not the only one who has something to lose here. We’re not a bad fit, we’re an awkward fit. Who the fuck cares? We’ll just work harder. I understand that you like to figure odds and that you like to do things sensibly, but so help me God Jyou, if you bring sensibility into our relationship, I’ll kill you.”

He gaped at her. She glared back.

“It’s not that easy, Mimi.”

“Why?” she demanded. “Why is it not that easy?”

“Working harder doesn’t mean things will work out.”

“You want a guarantee?” she scoffed. “Jyou, do you understand what a relationship is about?”

“Commitment. A relationship is about commitment,” Jyou was starting to get angry himself now. “And you can’t do it, Mimi. I’ve seen you, for years I’ve seen you. None of your boyfriends last long because you’re a . . .” he seemed to almost lose his nerve, but regained it to finish, “flake. You’re a flake.”

“A flake?”

“Yes. You’ve already ended our relationship once, and for all I know, the littlest thing could set you off to do it again.”

“My dumping you before had nothing to do with my being a flake. I had just started to accept the way I felt about you, and you decided to pick up and leave me pining for you. It pissed me off.”

“Don’t change history, Mimi. You told me yourself you wouldn’t wait for me.”

Mimi rolled her eyes. “Yes, because I was pissed. You think I don’t know how to lie?”

“Maybe that isn’t the best thing to advertise, right now when you’re trying to get me to take you seriously.”

“And when was the last time you did that, Jyou? Since I got here, you’ve done nothing but shoot down my ideas, apologies, and sexual advances. I may have disrespected your feelings in the past, but that doesn’t make it okay for you to do it to me now.”

“You’re still disrespecting mine, Mimi. Have you considered that maybe I don’t want you anymore?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not true,” Mimi stood firmly. “You’re the one disregarding feelings—mine and yours, and why? For your pride?”

“For my own good,” he corrected. “Do you have any idea what those two weeks we were together meant to me, Mimi?”

She stared at him, a lump suddenly swelling in her throat.

“Do you know what it’s like wanting someone for eight years, getting them—and then finding yourself tossed out the front door in your underwear?” His tone was unyielding. “I’m not doing that again, Mimi. I’m not.”

She nodded. “That’s fair,” she said, “but now let’s do me. Do you know what it’s like to resist someone for eight years, then give in—only to find yourself waiting for them while they endanger their life, to wake up every morning and think they might be sick and dying and you’ll never see them again? Do you know what it’s like to pawn the ruby earrings your daddy gave you because he won’t give you money for a plane ticket? To blow off volunteer work that will get you a scholarship into the cooking school of your dreams?” Mimi sighed. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I was scared. I understand that you don’t want to give in, I understand that I don’t deserve you, but I’ve come all this way and I’ll pester you for the whole six months if I have to. You’re worried that I’m going to drop you again, but that’s very unlikely. You see Jyou, I may be a flake, but I’ve made up my mind.”

When it became apparent that it would be a while before he fully gathered himself, Mimi stood up on her toes, kissed his lips lightly, hand lingering on the side of his face, and started walking.

She still had to get that barrel back to the kitchens before she could go to Jyou’s room for a shower and she wanted to get it over with.

-----------

Jyou was completely stunned. He swallowed.

As he stood, rain began to pelt him, striking his face almost painfully.

Good God, he believed her. He hadn’t wanted to—knew it was dangerous. He also knew that it didn’t actually change their situation, that none of it meant that Mimi wouldn’t ever leave him again, that none of it meant their personalities were any more suited for each other. Sensibly, he knew they were still probably lurching toward a cliff. But Mimi was right—sensibility had no place in their relationship.

Suddenly, Jyou had a very Taichi-like impulse to howl in abandon. Mimi loved him!

He caught up to her just as she exited the squat storage house, hauling a barrel that weighed on her arms like it was going to break them. The heavy door closed itself behind her and she set the barrel down. He snatched her up, pulling her to him.

“Jyou!” she said, alarmed. “I have to lock up.”

Jyou didn’t care. Weeks of thinking about her no matter where he was or what he was doing, of sneaking off in the middle of the day, and certainly the night, to take care of painful erections, was all over. He tilted her chin up and pulled her face to his, “You can lock up after.” Then he kissed her like a dehydrated man drinks water from the first stream he’s seen in days—faster, deeper, and with more fervor than his stomach can take.

Mimi gave a startled but pleased squeal. She leaned into him and made no protest when he picked her up and sat her atop the barrel. He spread her legs and moved between them, the tips of his fingers already finding the hem of her now rain-soaked shirt. He broke the contact of their mouths when it passed over her head, then stopped still. Her bra, a transparent pink mesh which had embroidered flowers surrounding cut out nipples, was now molded to her skin by the water—droplets falling from above, slapping her skin as they landed, and rolling over her uncovered chest.

Mimi seemed amused and highly aroused by his rapt attention. “The panties match,” she whispered throatily.

With a groan, he reached for the fastenings of her oversized pants, lifting her briefly to pull them down and off her legs. He took a moment to stare. She hadn’t been lying; the panties matched. The thick fabric of the pants had protected them from getting wet, but the rivulets of rain moving down her exposed body took care of that. Jyou was transfixed, gazing as the thin, translucent fabric absorbed what little water it could, then suctioned itself to her flushed and swollen mound. There sat his Mimi, in a wet, see-through lingerie ensemble, leather work gloves, and black rubber rain boots.

It was too much, and he began working the buttons of his shirt with such desperation, he could only get a few to go where he wanted them to.

Mimi stood, removed the gloves, and pulled the tiny panties down her wet legs, tossing them atop her pile of clothing. She stepped forward and put her hands on Jyou’s arms. “Don’t bother,” she said, “I can’t wait anymore, anyway.”

Jyou shuddered as she sealed her lips to his and led him back to their previous position: she on the edge of the barrel, legs spread wide, and his hips between her thighs. Her water-chilled hands traveled down his body and caressed his hardened cock through his pants a moment, before deftly unfastening his button and zipper. Pressing her hard, wet nipples into his chest, she pushed his pants and boxers over the curves of his buttocks, and down his legs.

The head of his erection brushed her searing entrance, and with a crazed cry, he thrust into her with all the force of a reflexive jerk. Mimi gave a sharp whimper and wrapped herself around him, her face in his neck, hands and nails gripping his shoulders for dear life, legs locked behind his lower back.

Freezing rain was hitting them, but between them where their bodies met, there was a fire. He gripped her sweet hind cheeks for support and pounded into her with every bit of longing and lust he’d been carrying around since she’d arrived. She arched to meet his every plunge, hot breath and the enthralling little noises breaking from her throat tickling his ear.

She was as tight as he remembered, as hot, and as enthusiastic. In the time that had passed since their last encounter, he had tried to convince himself that it wasn’t actually like this, that she wasn’t this good, that it didn’t feel this way to be in her. But his memory and hormones hadn’t been playing tricks—these lightning waves of pleasure, starting from where her tunnel clenched him and washing over his every nerve, were very, very real. God, he was so glad they were real.

Jyou knew he couldn’t hold on any longer. “I’m sorry, Mimi,” he gasped just before he shot gobs of salty cum into her. His vision went black as he shook in his release, and he gripped her tightly to him to savor the feel of her and to keep his balance.

“Mimi . . .” he gasped through ragged breaths.

Her face was buried in his chest. “Shh,” she stopped him. “Just keep moving.”

“But I just—”

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you hard.”

He groaned as she squeezed him with her hole. She had him so tight, he had to pull back slowly to keep from hurting himself. Then push back in the same way. Out. In. She was right—this did keep him hard. But it was too soon, also; he knew he wouldn’t be coming again for a bit. So instead of focusing on the sensations her finely toned vaginal muscles were giving him, he centered his attention on the writhing girl in his arms.

She met his slow, steady thrusts, and reacted to his every movement. Her water-spotted skin was flushing and stirring beneath his gaze. He grunted and moved his mouth to suck on her earlobe, rewarded when she gave a loud gasp and dug her nails into his back through his shirt. Smiling into her neck, he trailed his tongue down to her collarbone. Dotting kisses across it from one shoulder to the other, he then moved lower, to her inflamed and stiff nipple, surrounded by embroidered petals.

He dragged the tip of his nose across it a few times, causing her to frantically press her chest into his face. Obeying her pant-broken commands, he took the pink tip into his mouth, the surrounding fabric tickling his tongue. He alternated fierce, hard sucks with tiny gentle ones, every so often pulling his head back to lap his tongue at the pinnacle. Jyou knew Mimi’s breasts were so sensitive she could come just from having them sucked, and right now he could feel that very thing building to its peak in the body wrapped about him.

She pulled his head from her torso and to her lips for a kiss, rain water running down their faces. “Jyou,” her voice tore her throat. “I-I’m coming. I’m coming!”

He clutched her hips as her surges against him became more frenetic and feverish. “Jyou . . . .” His eyes settled on her face as she closed hers in rapture. “Jyou . . . .” She bit her lower lip and dug her nails into his buttocks. “Jyou . . . !” There was nothing sensuous or calculated or contained about her movements now—she wasn’t thinking about how she looked, or whether or not he was enjoying it, she just wanted to come. “God, yes, Jyou!” And he felt her break into shudders and spasms against him, her face contorting, her mouth twisting in its final cry of his name. It was the most erotic and beautiful thing he had ever seen.

When the tremors stopped, she collapsed against his chest, and he held her, stroking her wet hair. She belonged to him now, he knew she did.

His pleasant thoughts were interrupted by a vibrating at his ankle. After a moment of started confusion, he realized that it was his beeper.

Slowly, pulled back from her a bit. “Mimi?”

“Mmm,” she didn’t open her eyes.

“Mimi, I need to get to my beeper.”

She opened them as he disentangled himself from her and bent to retrieve the electronic device from his muddy pocket. Brushing the water and gunk from it, he sighed—this couldn’t be good for it. As he tried to squint through the fogged-up window to see who had paged him, he heard Mimi stand and begin to dress rather quickly.

Suddenly feeling self-conscious about his own state of undress, he quickly pulled up his sopping wet pants and fastened them. When he looked up at Mimi, she was smiling at him, but there was a sadness behind it.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“I’m always going to be second to that beeper, aren’t I?”

He was surprised by her answer. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He didn’t know what exactly to say, and how to say it so that he didn't get himself into trouble.

“It’s okay,” Mimi said. “I know you’re a doctor—or that you’re going to be, and that beeper is how people let you know you’re needed. It’s saving lives, and I shouldn’t be more important than that, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

He smiled, and couldn’t help himself from kissing her. “Well, this time, the beeper was all about you.”

Mimi paled a bit. “My test results.”

He nodded. “Negative.”

Her eyes widened, “Really?”

He nodded. "He already sent them to me once, he was just confirming."

She whooped and threw her arms around his neck, he swung her around in joy. His relief was not only for her; he didn’t want to tell Mimi, but he had completely lost his head with her and shouldn’t in a million years have done what he just did—if she was sick, all that contact would probably mean a near-death sentence for him, too. He had been ninety percent sure she was in the clear, but he should have held off till he got the confirmation from the second test. God, she made him into an idiot.

She picked up the barrel, and he reached out to help her carry it.

“So,” he asked, “what’s in this anyway?”

“Tarantulas.”

He pulled his hands back, like he’d just been told the barrel contained . . . well, tarantulas. “Are you serious?”

She laughed.

Oh yeah, an idiot. But like an idiot, he didn’t really care.