The Pacifist [COMPLETED]

She Has Something I Don't Have

Joseph

It was awkward... trying to do normal things and not knowing what his end game was. Joseph sat on a barstool, waiting for Rachel to arrive. He had chosen the place, knowing that it had the right balance of activity while still being mostly empty. A corner booth waited for them, but he needed some liquid courage first. Joseph peered into his barely touched glass and promised it would be one of two drinks. He didn't need any more than that to relax and anything beyond it would be a forbidden indulgence. Then, he promised himself that he wouldn't touch the stuff for at least a week, feeling that would satisfy his belief that he didn't have a habit.

He ran a hand down his face with a sigh. He didn't know how to do these kinds of things anymore. In reality, he never had the chance to. Joseph had enlisted right out of high school and had focused on nothing but his military career. Afterwards, he had had his hands full with surviving his demons and defining what civilian life looked like for him. Part of that definition had never included a woman, especially not one like Rachel. Rachel was the antithesis of him. Where he was rough, she was soft. Where he was crass, she was grace. Where he was cold, she was so deliciously warm. Her smile, when it shifted from uncertainty to abandon, haunted him and triggered a deep need to create a world where she could smile like that all the time.

The air shifted from the bar's door opening and he turned just as she walked in. His heart swelled at the sight of her in bright yellow, like buttercups. He hadn't instructed her to dress bright and knew it was to make up for her disobedience the last time. She wore an ankle length yellow wool skirt, its hem hovering over brown leather rider boots. The brown plaid pattern tamed the skirt's brightness but nothing could tame the yellow of her turtleneck. Joseph grunted, she looked amazing in the top but hated how it hid her beautiful neck. Maybe that was a good thing considering how every time he saw it, he wanted to wrap his hands around it.

Rachel smiled that smile Joseph was learning he'd do anything for as she approached him. She eyed the glass in his hand. "Mind if I join you, Mr. Maxwell?"

He wanted to tell her that he had planned to sit at the corner booth, but he grunted with a nod. She sat next to him, letting her arm brush against his. No, this was better, at least for now. He kept his eyes trained on the wall of spirits, a mirror hidden behind them.

"I'll have what he's having," said Rachel, earning a raised eyebrow from Joseph. She laughed. "I may look delicate but I'm not that delicate," she joked. "As you've found out..." she added cheekily.

Joseph choked on the sip of scotch he had just taken. Her satisfaction had him on fire and suddenly, he wanted to take her smile away just as much as he wanted to salvage it. The need had him rock hard under the bar. For fuck's sake she's going to be my undoing, he thought.

"I wanted to thank you," said Rachel. She waited for a response and continued when she didn't get one. "For making me paint the other night. I painted on my own for the first time since my sister died and I cleaned up the shed and got lots of art materials... I'm actually really excited to create."

Her earnestness choked up Joseph and his eyes burned with pride and relief that his impact on her, so far, had been positive. He considered that maybe he could be good for her. "I'm glad."

Rachel cleared her throat, immediately uncomfortable with the silence. Joseph decided against attempting to ease the tension, happy for the easy retribution for choking on his scotch. So he said nothing, and returned his attention to the wall behind the bar. He wasn't sure normal would be possible with Rachel, and a small part of him hoped that normal was the last thing she wanted anyway.