Loving You Black & Blue | Miguel O'Hara x Felicia Hardy

Ch. 8: Te Necesito

[New York City – Earth-1610]

Miguel hadn't thought about it until just now, but it had been ages since he had ridden in an elevator. Webbing up to Felicia's floor was infinitely less embarrassing than buzzing up to her apartment while the doorman sized him up, but she had challenged him to commit to the bit.

"I'm not running downstairs when you honk the horn. I'm not letting you in through my window. We're not horny teenagers." That's what she had said.

"You're EARLY!" Her voice rang out from within the apartment when he knocked on the door. Miguel didn't say anything, smiling to himself as he listened for her approaching footfalls. Felicia answered the door in her kimono, standing on tip toe to greet him with a quick peck as he stepped over the threshold, "Almost ready!"

Miguel snatched her by the waist, slipping his hands inside the robe to pull her closer and returning her greeting with one of his own – a deeper kiss, deliciously slow and indulgent. He grinned against her mouth when she began weakly pounding her fist on his chest.

"Jesus, Miguel," she fanned herself playfully, yanking her loosed robe back around her body. He reached for her again, but she was too quick. "Suitors wait in the kitchen," she teased, "I'll be right back."

"You know," Miguel called after her, "between you buying my outfit and you picking the club, I'm not sure how this qualifies as me taking you out."

Felicia's laughter floated from her open bedroom door, "It counts because you're gonna be adoring me all night." She emerged at the end of the hall, checking herself in the mirror one more time before approaching, "Besides, you're the one who's weird about me coming to your dimension."

Miguel felt guilty about that. She had never verbalized it, but he sensed that Felicia still sometimes felt that he didn't fully trust her. Maybe she was right. She did run with a bad crowd and he had an entire network of heroes to lead, a reputation attached to it. But that's not really why he didn't invite her into his world.

E-1610 had its problems (problems that he was bound and determined to eradicate), but it was simple. It was a world that had a predictable ebb and flow and was largely safe from the politics, the warfare, and the terrifying outcomes that plagued other dimensions. If she had seen a fraction of what he had seen, she'd feel as he did – this apartment and the private paradise they had created for each other in it was as close to heaven as you could get.

Speaking of heaven Felicia stood before him, an angel. A daring bodysuit hugged her figure, bold black stripes punctuating the revealing mesh that showed a lot more than it hid away. Dark jeans were slung low across her hips and her heels were so high that she resembled a ballerina on pointe. "Car's downstairs, let's go!"

No missions. No multiverses. Loosen up, he promised himself.

********************

The plain, industrial exterior of the club was unassuming but there was no mistaking the pulsing beat that came from within. "Latin night?" Miguel raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise. "Latin club," Felicia beamed, sliding out of the back seat, "I assume that a city called Nueva York also has bachata?"

Felicia was pleased to see a hint of a smile on Miguel's face and definitely a spark of recognition, as he unfolded from the town car. She had a hunch about him that she was anxious to explore and she was having all kinds of feelings about how he looked tonight. The fitted black knit she had chosen for him and the slim silhouette of his black jeans exaggerated the dreamy ratio of his chest and waist (her personal shopper had all but keeled over when she had sent over Miguel's measurements, and had vowed to steal him away). The heavy black combat boots had been the one element that Miguel had chosen himself. Always ready for action, Hardbody O'Hara.