Tides of deception ✺ Outlander/Stephen Bonnet Fanfic

♤13. Hangover

Stephen lies next to Maria, his breath slowing, but the pounding of his heart remains. His hand, warm and possessive, rests on her waist as if he’s reluctant to let her slip away just yet. But the usual cocky grin is missing from his face—replaced by a look of quiet contemplation.

Maria’s mind races. Her body feels heavy with the lingering traces of their shared desire, yet her thoughts are a swirl of questions and unease. How did it come to this? He was supposed to be her enemy. She was his captive, and yet… that didn’t feel like captivity. Not anymore.

A few beats of silence stretch between them, and in that moment, the tension grows heavier, not lighter.

Maria moves first, pulling the blanket tighter around herself, breaking the contact. She sits up, wrapping her arms around her knees, her back to him. It’s not rejection exactly, but a way to shield herself, to regain some sense of control over the unpredictable situation.

Stephen watches her in silence, his eyes narrowing. He doesn’t like the way the distance grows between them again, not after what they just shared. But he also knows better than to push. He sits up too, leaning on one elbow, the glow of the candlelight casting shadows across his face.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this, was it?” Maria mutters, more to herself than him.

Stephen’s lips twist into a half-smile, but there’s a tension in his expression. “No,” he replies, his voice low and rough. “But I can’t say I regret it.”

His words hang in the air, heavy, laced with meaning. They don’t soften the moment. If anything, they make it sharper.

Maria bites her lip, unsure how to respond. She feels that same pull towards him, the one she thought she could resist, but tonight proved her wrong. Yet, she won’t let herself fall into something easy. It can’t be that way with him. Not with Stephen.

She turns to face him, her eyes meeting his. The fire between them isn’t just about lust anymore—it’s about control, about who will bend first. “I don’t know what this means,” she admits, her voice soft but firm. “And I’m not sure I want to find out.”

Stephen lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “I didn’t think you would,” he says. “But whatever it is, you’re not going anywhere.”

The words are possessive, but there's no softness in them. It’s not a declaration of love. It’s a reminder of the intensity between them, of the fact that they are tied together in ways neither fully understands yet.

She narrows her eyes, not liking the way his words send a thrill through her—both in warning and in excitement. “Maybe I am,” she counters, her voice hardening just a little. “Maybe this isn’t what I want at all.”

Stephen’s expression darkens, his usual playful, teasing mask slipping. He leans closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Then why are you still here, Maria?”

The question hits her harder than she expected. She could have left. She could still try. But she doesn’t move.

The silence stretches again, filled with unspoken words, with emotions neither of them are ready to confront.

                                ✺

The morning light streamed through the cabin window, casting a soft glow over the breakfast table. Maria sat across from Stephen, her eyes focused on the tea in her hands, her posture tense. She hadn’t slept much, her thoughts racing through everything that had happened the night before, unsure of how to address it now. The air between them was filled with unspoken words—words she wasn’t sure she wanted to speak.

Stephen, was silent. Too silent. The kind of silence that hummed with restrained tension. He sat with his arms folded, eyes fixed on the plate before him. His jaw was clenched, the muscles in his neck taut, as if he was doing everything in his power not to let the frustration boil over.

Maria glanced at him from across the table, her chest tightening. She could feel the storm brewing inside him. His usual teasing, charming demeanor was gone. The lighthearted playfulness that had drawn her in was now replaced by something much darker—something sharp and cold.

She knew why. And she didn’t know how to fix it.

The scrape of his chair against the wooden floor broke the silence as Stephen leaned forward, gripping the edge of the table with white-knuckled hands. His eyes were darker than she’d ever seen them, a dangerous mix of anger and something deeper—something she didn’t want to name.

“You’re quiet,” he said, his voice low, but it carried a weight that made Maria’s heart pound. “Strange, considering everything that happened last night.”

Maria swallowed hard, looking away, trying to steady her breath. She wasn’t sure what to say. She’d pulled away early morning, unsure of how to face what had passed between them. But now, sitting here, under his gaze, she could feel the tension mounting. The hurt behind his eyes was palpable, masked by his anger, but unmistakable.

Stephen’s hands tightened around the table. He grit his teeth, his voice barely more than a growl. “Was that all it was to you? Just something to walk away from?”

Maria flinched. She hadn’t expected him to be this blunt. The vulnerability he’d shown last night, the rawness of it—he had let her in in a way she hadn’t thought possible. And now… now he looked like he regretted every second of it.

Her throat tightened. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then what did you mean, Maria?” he spat, leaning back in his chair, his arms crossing over his chest as he stared her down. His expression was sharp, dangerous. He wasn’t giving her any room to escape. “You pull me into something I can’t get out of, and now you’re not sure if you want this? After everything?”

His words stung, but Maria couldn’t help the defensive edge that crept into her voice. “I don’t know what I want,” she admitted, her voice shaky but firm. “I didn’t plan for any of this. You… we’re—”

“We’re what?” he cut her off, his eyes narrowing as he watched her stumble over her words. “Say it.”

Maria hesitated, feeling the weight of his demand. She didn’t know how to answer. All she knew was that last night had shaken her in ways she hadn’t been prepared for. She didn’t know how to reconcile the fire between them with the chaos in her head.

Stephen’s eyes burned with frustration, his chest rising and falling in heavy breaths. “You think I wanted to feel this? You think I asked for any of this?” His voice softened just for a moment, and for the briefest of seconds, she saw the vulnerability return—the one he had bared to her last night, the one that made her heart ache. “I’ve faced storms, battles… but you—” he shook his head, his lips curling in a bitter smile. “You make me feel like I’m losing my goddamn mind.”

The raw honesty in his words hit her harder than she expected. He wasn’t just angry—he was hurt. Deeply.

She reached across the table, her fingers trembling as she tried to find the right words. “Stephen, I—”

But he pulled back, his walls going up again as his cold expression returned.
The silence that followed was suffocating. Stephen’s anger was palpable, but beneath it, there was something more fragile—a sense of rejection that Maria hadn’t anticipated. He had made himself vulnerable to her last night, and now, her hesitation was cutting deeper than either of them had expected.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” Maria finally whispered, her voice barely audible. “But I don’t know how to do this.”

Stephen’s eyes flashed, and for a moment, she thought he might lash out. But instead, he stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor again as he walked towards the door. He paused, his hand on the handle, without turning to look at her.

“I don’t know how to do this either,” he muttered, his voice rough and filled with bitterness.

And with that, he walked out, leaving Maria alone at the table, her heart pounding in her chest as the weight of his words hung heavily in the air.