((R)) a dangerous love affair || SCOUT

[nixon mason grey]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, background-color:#555555; width:400px; padding:15px; border: 15px solid #111111; border-radius: 60px 0px 0px 0px;] [/style] [style=font-family:CENTURY GOTHIC; font-color:#111111; font-size:16px; text-align:center; line-height:120%; letter-spacing:4px; align: center;]LIGHTS WILL GUIDE YOU HOME

[/div]

AND IGNITE YOUR BONES

- - - AND I WILL TRY TO FIX YOU

As he imagined her reaction, a devilish smile lit his features.

She was going to be angry that he spent money on her again, but it was obvious that he paid little to no heed to her objections. He wanted to spoil her so she was going to have to get used to it. He had never had someone that he was willing to spend money on, and he was enjoying it. He just wished she was as keen to the idea as he was. But he knew that she would need the dress for the event that he was bringing her to tonight. And the way that he was asking her, in typical Nixon fashion, left little room for argument. Grinning down at his phone as he finished typing the message, he looked it over before hitting send. It would go straight to her phone and he hoped it would get her in a tizzy before she even knew what was up. The text message was simple, but one he hoped would make her smile at the same time. 'Morning love. Expect a few surprises today! ;D'

Smiley faces, or any sort of expression in text messages was a new thing for Nixon. Normally he didn't include that, but Scout had seemed convinced that he needed to put them in there because his text messages were just as hard to read as he was. At least with the faces she could tell if he was joking or not. Acquiescing to her demands, he felt slightly foolish, but since the messages were only going to her, he supposed he could make the exception. Still smiling roguishly to himself, he finished picking her dress out for the night with the secret help of one of the maids who had better taste than he did, and was soon having it wrapped in a white box. However, before the clerk wrapped it, Nixon asked for a piece of paper and a pen. They gave him what he demanded, especially the young girl who was visibly swooning at the counter. He raised an eyebrow at her and went to scribbling the note to his girlfriend. His handwriting was nearly illegible, but he tried to make it neat for Scout's sake.

'To help you dress to impress. See you at eight. Don't worry, you won't have to wear this for very long.'

He decided not to include any drawn faces because it would be better if she didn't know if he was joking or not. Having no shame, he tossed the obviously intimate note into the box and asked them to wrap it up for him. Looking to the maid after he paid for the rather pricey gown, he spoke to her, his British accent powerful, yet kind as he asked her to make the delivery. Not wanting anyone in the store to overheard Scout's address, he escorted the friendly little maid out into the streets of Boston and handed her Scout's address on a slip of paper. "Rip that up after you deliver it, alright? We don't need anyone knowing where she lives, just in case. Paparazzi are like leeches." He told her honestly, and then handed her an extra two hundred dollars for herself so she could have the day to what she wished. Giving her a warm smile, he turned on his heel and started the stroll back to the waiting car for him.

Getting in without much of a word, he indicated his home address and soon settled back as he thought of the night to come. It would be fun, and he knew Scout would already be in a mood when he picked her up at eight. However, things were always fun when she was in a mood. He loved picking fights sometimes, and since things had been so good lately, especially after their shared night of emotions, he knew it was acceptable to joke again. He missed it. He missed her.

They hadn't seen one another for three days now.

While he knew and understood that she was busy with her job and her life, and he was busy with his own affairs and trying to pull out of his illegal investing company, he still missed her desperately. Trying not to think about the ache in his chest, he sighed softly and was more than glad when they arrived home. He had three hours before he needed to pick Scout up, which he hoped was a decent amount of time for her to get ready. He paced around the mansion for a couple of hours, trying to keep himself busy but basically chomped at the bit the entire time. When it was an acceptable time for him to get ready, he was dressed in minutes. Trading his normal slacks and button up shirt for a three piece suit, he pulled at the jacket in the mirror, straightening himself out. He had chosen the all black route tonight, for the dark color always seemed to have some sort of affect on Scout. Besides, it would match her olive green dress perfectly, as would the green tie he had picked out for himself to match her.

Running his hands through his hair to tame it, he looked at his recently shaved face in the mirror. While he preferred a bit of scruff himself, as did Scout, he needed to be professional tonight. Huffing in annoyance at the expectations of the night, he realized with a groan that his mother was going to be there. Well, they would face that hurdle when it came, he supposed. Hopefully the woman would be too drunk to realize who her son was and would make an absolutely fool of herself and have to be escorted out. One could only hope, right? Then Nixon could act like he didn't know her. Perfect solution, since she had really let herself go.

Grumbling to himself, he made sure he applied the correct amount of cologne so that it wasn't too overpowering, and then finished off getting ready by brushing his teeth. It was always the last thing that he did, other than putting on his shoes. Once those were on as well, he grabbed his cell phone, his wallet, and his keys and hurried down the stairs. Looking at his watch, he realized he had twenty minutes to get Scout. It was a good thing her apartment wasn't that far away from him. Getting into the familiar black and red Mercedes, he revved the engine to life, shifting it easily as he roared out of the garage. Picking up speed, he cleared through the gates and was soon speeding through the windy roads and stoplights until he got outside the apartment. Always needing to be the gentleman, he parked the car and got out, walking to her apartment building and pushing the button to be buzzed in. "It's eight o'clock. I hope you're ready or no sex for you."

He obviously didn't care about anyone else hearing his statement, for an elderly couple had strolled by just as he announced himself. Seeing the look the old woman gave him, he sent her a wink in response. While normally he cared what other people thought of him, tonight was just about having a good time with Scout. He couldn't wait, and he hoped she was excited. He also secretly hoped she loved the dress he had picked out for her. Standing there calmly, he waited for her arrival, wondering what in the world was taking her so long. She had three hours to get ready. Huffing, he leaned against the wall, his face hidden in the shadows because of his position. He just wanted to get there and get out already.

tagged .

[/b] scout words .[/b] 1285
notes .[/b] let the fun begin![/color]

[/div]

this lovely template was made by Arro from Caution 2.0 and features lyrics belonging to the oh so amazing Coldplay. please leave all of this credit stuff in tact and leave a link for Miss Roro here if you are going to be using this anywhere. Thank you, loves!

[/style][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[SCOUT ELAYNA GREY]

theres a thunder in our hearts baby

so much hate for the ones we love

TAG: NIXON OUTFIT: HERE ONE LAST THING: so i reused her template because i like it xD

"You cannot take me off this case now!" Scout griped passionately, tossing a file folder down on her boss's desk. The police chief looked patiently up at her over his reading glasses, his eyes flitting to the folder and then back up to her. Her heart beat rapidly at the implications this folder held. She was getting a partner. That meant she wasn't trusted.

"You're not being taken off of the case, Detective Shepherd," the chief clarified as she crossed her arms over her chest and stamped her foot impudently. "You're just getting some help. I can tell you've been in over your head with this guy, and if you're pretending to date him to get closer to him, then you can only do so much snooping before he gets suspicious."

Or I can do no snooping at all and stand here with his open confession to his crimes without saying a word about it, her subconscious reminded her. She had Nixon's admission of guilt. She could have him thrown behind bars right now if she wanted, but she didn't want that. She'd taken a different tactic; she was going to protect him. He was willing to surrender all of it to be with her, and if she could drag out the case long enough, then she could get him off. She knew she could. She was still trusted at the police station since they had no idea how deeply she was in all of this. She'd never given her boss any reason for doubt in the past, so he didn't suspect her now. But he still felt the need to add an officer to her detail. It infuriated her. It complicated things. This new partner wouldn't know her personal connection to Nixon, and he would be trying to get him arrested. She would have to be doubly as careful to keep him safe now.

Of course, her boss knew none of this, so she used her ire to her advantage. Planting her fists on his desk, she leaned over, her blue eyes flashing angrily. "I get it, but I can't have this new guy screwing it all up for me," she pointed out. He could not only screw up her investigation (if it could even appropriately referred to as such anymore), but he could screw up her relationship with Nixon. It was already fragile as it was, with him just learning to trust her and her doing the same for him, she didn’t need more complications in the mix of that.

The chief nodded his head in understanding. "You perform your 'duties'," he surrounded the word by forming air quotes with his fingers, "As Grey's 'girlfriend', and Thompson compiles clues and evidence so you're never suspect. He'll pose as a valet or a bouncer or something that Grey would never suspect, and you'll be clear to observe him from the inside."

Nixon was too smart for that. She knew he was. He would never allow someone near him he didn't trust. He also trusted her, and that was the only reason he accepted her close to him. He wouldn't hire this partner. This was a good thing. He would be safe from the extra scrutiny, and she would be free to figure out a way to get him out of this. All she had to count on was him denying the extra 'help'. That was easy enough. Of course, she kept this knowledge to herself both to protect her intimate knowledge of Nixon's mind and to protect him. She couldn't allow the chief to know his plan wouldn't work, or he would try another tactic. She couldn't risk him being successful in this.

Standing from where she leaned on the desk, she nodded, her anger subsiding as she realized the situation wasn't as dire as she'd first imagined. Her hold on the case was still intact, and she was unwittingly allowed to date Nixon publicly as part of her "job". She almost smiled at the irony of it all, but she caught herself before it happened.

Ever since Nixon had confessed he loved her, she'd been calmer at work. That confession had firmly stationed her in her resolve to protect him, and that cleared her mind. She was a two-sided creature now, honest and open and completely in love with Nixon when she was with him, and guarded and simply closed off around her coworkers. It was funny how the situation had shifted so drastically, when just a month before she'd been the opposite: cagey and flighty around the billionaire and fumblingly honest at work. But Nixon had changed all that. He had changed her. She felt more alive with him, and her nerves tingled as she left her boss's office and picked up her things to head home.

It was already six o'clock as the walked into the parking garage and climbed into her simple blue Toyota Highlander. It was old, and she knew Nixon would probably disapprove, but she didn't feel comfortable driving the obviously expensive car he'd left for her. Besides, if she showed up with a brand new car to the police station, it would be obvious something was amiss. She hadn't checked her cellphone all day, and when she opened it, she instantly recognized she'd received a text message from him. Her heart did a backflip, and she opened it to see his smiley face. She smiled at the message, wondering what it could mean. She'd teased him about being too guarded, so he'd picked up the habit of sending her emoticons to relate his feelings. It was silly and sweet, and she loved it.

Knowing it had been too long since he'd sent the message to make a reply worth the time it would take to type it, she shoved her phone into her purse and drove swiftly home. She was inexplicably excited as she road the elevator up to her floor and exited. Standing outside of her apartment was a brilliant white box, tied simply and firmly, and her curiosity peaked as she gathered it into her arms and entered her apartment.

Laying it on her bed as she pulled off her slacks, she dropped them absently to the floor and undid the ribbon around the box. She had a feeling she knew what lay inside, just by the shape of it, and she tore the paper aside to reveal his note first. The words made her hot all over and she was glad she was alone. Eight o'clock? For what? She glanced at the bedside clock as she dropped the note onto the nightstand, realizing it was already six-thirty.

Frowning curiously, she pushed the paper aside and gasped as the shimmering green fabric met her eye. Her fingers trailed over it gingerly as if she was afraid it would combust at her touch. Pulling the dress from the box, she whistled low as it unfolded to the length of her body. The note, the dress... she loved it, but a warm irritation rose in her chest. Perhaps it was from the day's events - more men assuming she would do what they wanted just because they told her so - but she couldn't help feeling a bit miffed at the gift. So he assumed she would dress up for him without even a simple explanation as to what they were doing or even so much as asking first?

Impetuously, she tossed the dress onto her bed where it crinkled dejectedly and removed her shirt to add it to the pile with her pants. The man had the gall to assume she would do what he wanted without so much as an offer first. He knew she would say yes, as did she, but an antebellum-inspired feminism within her still wanted him to ask. She was a lady - even if she lusted openly over him so badly he knew instantly that she couldn't resist him if he touched her or scalded her with those eyes - and she wanted to be treated like one. Buying her gifts wasn't the way to treat her with respect.

Managing to work herself into a childish tizzy over the gift before she climbed in the shower, she fumed silently as she bathed and climbed out. She was half a mind to refuse him and sit stubbornly in her sweatpants and tee shirt when he arrived at eight. But the offer intrigued her, and the dress was absolutely beautiful. Entering her bedroom, she let down her wet hair and blew it dry swiftly, straightening it so it hung almost halfway down her back. If he wanted to pique her, then she could play that game. She would wear the dress, and she would make herself so damn ravishing he wouldn't be able to keep his hands off of her. That would show him.

Pleased with herself, she pulled the dress on over her hips and was only mildly surprised when it fit her as if it had been made for her. He had felt every curve of her body after all, and he was intense enough that he had probably mentally taken an inventory of her measurements just for this type of situation. Once she had the dress on, she admired herself in the mirror and appreciated his intuition not for the first time. Although her eyes were blue, the green dress fit her skin and hair perfectly and somehow only served to accentuate her best features. She felt pretty in it, and her confidence swelled as she rounded the bed to the nightstand where she'd stowed the earrings he'd bought her.

Slipping them through the seldom-used holes in her ears, she pulled her hair up in the back, pinning it underneath so it hung straight down to her shoulders. Gently with her make-up brush, she brushed a soft color onto her cheekbones, but not too much as to look like a tramp. She liked her make-up more natural so that her skin could breath anyway. Reassessing herself in the mirror, she lost her breath as she realized she'd accomplished her mission. Even she, with her low self-esteem and constant feeling of mousiness around Nixon, knew she looked good.

She realized it was eight o'clock as she heard the buzzer go off in her living room. Knowing it was him, since he was never late, she felt a thrill run through her at seeing him again. She was still miffed about the way he'd assumed she was available (whether she was or not), so she used that to bolster herself and she pressed the button to answer his call. “Hello?” she asked, managing to sound innocent as if she had no idea who was on the other side of the intercom. His words scalded her through the intercom, and her cheeks flushed instantly. He released the button before she could respond, and she was thankful since she had no idea how to respond. “My goodness,” she muttered breathlessly, forcing herself to calm down. She’d heard that teasing tone in his voice, that demanding challenge he always gave her. Resolving that he wasn’t about to win this with no fight, she squared her shoulders and took a little extra time to slip her perfectly matching green shoes onto her feet.

Convinced she could control herself despite his seductive threat still ringing in her ears, she entered the elevator and rode it down to the lobby where he would be waiting. As the elevator pinged open, the lobby lights shone down on her, and she raised her chin slightly as she exited, her blue eyes searching the lobby for him. When she saw him, her breath caught in her throat. She’d never seen him dressed to the hilt as he was, only in pictures. The real thing was much more breathtaking. He was in nothing but black from head to toe, excepting his green tie that perfectly matched the dress he’d bought for her. The touch of color pleased her, but she managed not to allow it to show as she glided across the lobby toward him. Her eyes sparked with a challenge, and she wondered if her appearance had the effect on him that his had on her. She felt as light as air as she came to a halt beside him. Her instincts tried to force her eyes down from him, but she couldn’t look away. She was continually amazed how this one man could affect her so thoroughly.
Then there was his not-so-veiled comment about withholding from her. They hadn’t had sex since that afternoon when he’d gotten knocked down by the cyclist, and after their night of thick emotion and confessions added to three days not seeing him at all, she found it hard to contain herself. She was going to have to settle for the old-fashioned methods if he didn’t take care of her issues soon. “Here I am, Mr. Grey,” she chimed pleasantly, replying to him by his last name to entertain herself while smiling benignly up at him. As she shifted her weight, her dress rustled delightfully, and her body thrilled as if her nerves were on fire. Sometimes it took a lot to make her feel pretty since she’d always been unconcerned with her looks before Nixon came along, but right now, she felt as if she glowed. Her confidence blossomed as she regarded him, attempting a cool stare and certain she was failing miserably.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going since you didn’t have the manners to ask me in the first place?” she asked testily, knowing he would understand she wasn’t actually mad at him but feeling the need to point out she wasn’t just free for his taking whenever he wanted her. Liar, she thought to herself. He could have her whenever the hell he wanted her, and she knew it, but she didn’t have to admit it. She had her pride to consider even if her body was disobedient.

tell me that we both matter dont we

TEMPLATE BY: THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE MIKEY ! @ CAUTION.

[nixon mason grey]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, background-color:#555555; width:400px; padding:15px; border: 15px solid #111111; border-radius: 60px 0px 0px 0px;] [/style] [style=font-family:CENTURY GOTHIC; font-color:#111111; font-size:16px; text-align:center; line-height:120%; letter-spacing:4px; align: center;]LIGHTS WILL GUIDE YOU HOME

[/div]

AND IGNITE YOUR BONES

- - - AND I WILL TRY TO FIX YOU

Patience was not one of Nixon's virtues. In fact, he didn't have many virtues at all, and he didn't think that he needed to change that at the moment. While he was not self-conscious in any way, he didn't think that highly of himself when it came down to everything. He appeared to, he knew that. His image was one that he had perfected over the years to a science. He appeared self-confident, he appeared full of himself because it was the person that he needed to be. He wasn't going to change just because he had met the woman that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

As he stood in the lobby of his apartment building, he suddenly realized where he had just let his thoughts wander to. The woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with? Was he seriously thinking about marrying her? Nixon scared himself at that moment, making himself rather uncomfortable as he stood there with the eyes of the lobby attendant on him. Sometimes he wished that he wasn't who he was. It would be nice to have a moment of peace and quiet outside of his home and of Scout's. He hated being hoarded around sometimes, and he hated feeling like this young woman was undressing him with her eyes. He had totally just freaked himself out and the last thing he needed was for this young woman to say something to him. Mustering up the best scathing look he could acquire at the moment, he sent it her way, but it didn't seem to affect her. She didn't even stop staring. A wink was his only response from her, and he rolled his eyes at the petulance of the girl. Shaking his head, he was thankful for her reaction because it steered him clear of the thought that had just sent his world spinning. Anger ignited as she continued to stare, and it infuriated him that he couldn't speak to her the way that he wanted to. He still had his public image to uphold. Damn his image. It was girls like that that made him want to say fuck it all and say what was really on his mind.

It seemed the only person he could be himself around was Scout. And right now, that person was causing his irritation to rise because of her lack of an answer. What in the world was she doing up there? He had given her plenty of time to get ready and then it hit him. She was probably doing it to get him worked up because she was in a tizzy about the gift and the note. Huffing to himself, he sent another glare to the ogling receptionist, and he was still openly glaring at the lovestruck teenager as Scout made her entrance from the elevator. So distracted was he by the rudeness of the young girl that he take in the full sight of Scout at first. And when he did glance haphazardly over at the elevator as it dinged, he had to do a double take.

She was doing this on purpose, and all he could think was, "Well, that's my girl." Quickly wiping the startled look clear from his features as he realized that the blonde beauty in the gown was his girlfriend, he straightened immediately from the wall that he had been leaning on, still slightly frustrated and uncomfortable from the staring. As Scout approached him, he saw the look in her eyes when she noticed him. Nixon hadn't ever thought anything of his appearance when he was dressing up. He simply donned the outfit because it was what he was used to because of his lifestyle. But as he took in her stare, he cast a rather humble look down at himself. "What?" He honestly didn't think that his clothes were going to have any affect on her whatsoever. He knew that he was going to be affected by what she was wearing, but not to this extent. Not exactly. His grey eyes lifted to her face immediately, and he tried to keep himself calm as he studied her. Feeling his libido respond almost instantly to her appearance, to her beauty, he forced it to behave as he took her hand in his, lifting it to his lips and kissing the back of it in his gentlemanly way. That caused the receptionist to glare at Scout, and Nixon could only hold back a chuckle.

"Yes, here you are Miss McAllister. It's about time."

He teased her openly after kissing the back of her hand. He knew that his touch would send sparks through her. It always did. But at the moment, she was sending those same sensations through him. They hadn't been with one another for three days. Three long days, especially after their confessions that night they had fought and made up, and fought and made up. The roller coaster ride that they had both been on had been exhausting and tiring, and they had stayed in bed for pretty much the entire day the next day. But they hadn't had sex. That meeting was not supposed to be about sex. And when he finally had the energy to get up and leave, he truly didn't want to. They had been away for three days since then and he couldn't be more happy to see her. Actually, his lower region couldn't be more happy to see her either, and if this night went the way that he hoped it would, they'd take care of all of their needs once they returned to one of their residences. He didn't care which one at this point, although his home was closer to the setting of the charity event because of the richness of the affair. He might want to return to the solace of her apartment simply because he had suddenly grown quite fond of the simplicity of it all. He had missed it these past few days, just as he had missed her.

Offering his elbow to her, he led her to the door of her lobby, hearing her tone as she berated him about not telling her where they were going. He looked sideways at her, suddenly feeling rather nervous. It was obvious that he was a bit off as he managed to work up the courage. He hadn't wanted her to refuse, and he was worried that she would have if he knew where they were going. "It's a charity event. I've made a donation to the local orphanages, and those who donated are expected specifically to attend. I had a plus one, and I couldn't think of anyone I'd rather bring. I...simply didn't want you to refuse." He explained, his new honesty thing continuing from their tender night they had previously shared.

Leading her to the Mercedes parked out front, he opened her door for her, holding onto her hand to help her slip in to the low car, wondering if he should have chosen a different vehicle for tonight for her comfort alone. However, what was done was done, and he couldn't change it now. Once he was certain that she was situated, he closed the door behind her and hurried around the front of the vehicle. He got in gracefully, not bothering to buckle his seat belt because he obviously wasn't one to follow the rules or the law. Looking over at her, his eyes suddenly caught sight of the earrings in her ears, and his heart skipped a beat. "You're wearing them." He pointed out breathlessly, pleasure filling him at the very idea that she would want to wear those. The small smile appeared on his face before he could stop it and he turned to face forward, starting the car up quickly, revving the engine to life once more. He pulled out of the space effortlessly and was soon speeding along back the way that he had come. "You really do look beautiful, love." He announced quietly, casting a steaming look over to her with his intense grey eyes. Unable to look at her shapely form in that curve hugging dress, he focused back on the road, intent not to touch her. He knew what it did to her and he didn't want her hot and bothered on just arriving to this event.

Pulling up to the entryway, he put the car in park, knowing she would marvel at the sheer size and grandeur of this place. Nixon's home was nothing like it. His didn't make this much of an in your face statement. While his was exquisite and tastefully done, it held nothing to this home. It wasn't nearly as big, it wasn't nearly as rich. Ignoring those thoughts, he stepped out of the car once the valet opened the door for him and tossed the keys to the man before opening Scout's door himself. Knowing she was going to be nervous, he offered her a charming, comforting smile. "Just take a deep breath for me Scout, and remember, I'm right here beside you. I've got you, just don't let go."

tagged .

[/b] scout words .[/b] 1285
notes .[/b] let the fun begin![/color]

[/div]

this lovely template was made by Arro from Caution 2.0 and features lyrics belonging to the oh so amazing Coldplay. please leave all of this credit stuff in tact and leave a link for Miss Roro here if you are going to be using this anywhere. Thank you, loves!

[/style][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[SCOUT ELAYNA GREY]

theres a thunder in our hearts baby

so much hate for the ones we love

TAG: NIXON OUTFIT: HERE ONE LAST THING: so i reused her template because i like it xD

As she left the solitude of the elevator, she instantly noticed the lobby attendant with her eyes trained on Nixon as if she was going to eat him. A wave of jealousy washed over her, and she ground her teeth together as her eyes found their way back to Nixon. Now he was looking at her, and the heat in his gaze wiped away all feelings of jealousy. She absently noticed the receptionist glare openly at her for distracting this beautiful man, and she almost smiled. Her subconscious cheered openly and sent the girl a vulgar sign, but Scout remained nonplussed on the surface. He was here for her and no one else, and that look of pleasant surprise on his face sent a wild thrill of pleasure through her. She knew he saw it by the way he reacted, and she forced herself to hold her poise as she reached his side.

"You're handsome, that's all," she responded honestly to his question, her eyes glancing pointedly at the receptionist before looking back at him. "And I'm not the only one who thinks so." She raised an eyebrow and the side of her mouth curled up in an amused smirk. He was a notorious playboy, his many exploits listed in every magazine and newspaper like a list of trophies. That pang of jealousy returned as the thought hit her, and she looked away from him so he wouldn't see it in her eyes.

He surprised her by grabbing her hand, lifting it to his lips where he kissed the backs of her fingers, sending a warmth through her. Her eyes flashed with desire that she didn't bother hiding. Her attraction to him was already obvious, and they hadn't slept together for a while now. She needed him, and the heat in her belly griped at her to be used. She urged her body to behave. Now wasn't the time for such thoughts. She felt the hot jealousy of the receptionist wash over her as Nixon removed his lips and smiled, pleased with himself. She ignored the girl and smiled coyly at him, biting her bottom lip absently.

The sound of her pseudonym threw her off for a moment. He'd never used her last name before, and she found herself wishing he knew her real name. She enjoyed it more, and she wished so badly she could share it all with him. She wanted him to have every piece of her. Soon, she promised herself, taking his elbow as he offered it. The act brought her closer to him, and she allowed her free hand to tuck into his elbow alongside her arm. She gently squeezed his forearm as he explained where they were going.

His mercurial shift in behavior caught her off guard as always, his nervousness apparent although he hid it well. He admitted he was afraid she would turn him down, and she smiled to herself as they reached the passenger's side of his Mercedes. After spending that emotion-filled night with him, followed by a day of just talking and watching tv and being around one another, she was more adept at reading him. She could feel the tenseness in his shoulders as his arm pulled hers closer to his side, and that was how she knew he was nervous. He mentioned orphans, and her heart broke silently. She'd always had a soft spot for children, and it depressed her that innocent children would be alone in this world. "I wouldn't have said no," she admitted, ceding to honesty as she glanced over at him when he released her arm to open the door. She gracefully gathered her skirt and lowered herself into the car.

When he closed the door and slid around the front of the car, she involuntarily flashed back to the first night she'd met him as he'd eagerly acted to take her some place private. She remembered vividly the heated moment on the hood of some stranger's car before that, and she writhed in her seat at the memory. It made her hot just remembering it, and she pressed her thighs together and looked away from him as he slid into the car.

His voice brought her out of those memories, and she glanced over at him, catching his smile at realizing she was wearing the jewelry he'd bought her. The earrings were the most expensive jewelry she owned, so she hadn't bothered with a necklace. Besides, she kinda enjoyed the naked view of her neck and collarbone. Her eyes mirrored the sparkling diamond earrings as she reached up and gently touched her ear with her fingers. "I am," she confirmed, smiling shyly over at him. She just hoped she didn't do something stupid and manage to lose one of them over the course of the evening.

He caught her off guard yet again as he spontaneously announced she was beautiful, coupled with his familiar petname for her. Hearing him call her love affected her as powerfully as the compliment, and she sucked in a deep breath. "Thank you," she replied in a humble voice. "You're as handsome as always, but I'm sure you already knew that." She winked playfully at him and bit her bottom lip again.

As they sped toward the mystery event, she wished she could touch him. She was afraid to take his hand since he was driving a manual, so she wrung her hands in her lap, shrugging her shoulders slightly which inadvertently made her cleavage deepen. She wondered if he even noticed. He was very observant, but surely he didn't pay that much attention to her. Although she knew how the dress made her look, she still wished sometimes that she was a vixen, one of those women so in tune with their bodies that their confidence alone drew men to them. Nixon was that kind of man; always so sure of himself. But she was only confident with herself when it came to her mind, not her body.

Not wanting to worry about her insecurities, she began wondering about this charity event as they grew closer. They were in the richer part of town, where Nixon lived, and panic sparked in her temple. Turning around a corner, they came to a stop in front of a building full of teeming crowds. As if the sheer amount of guests wasn't enough, there were masses of paparazzi clustered on the stairwell leading into the party, and trailing out down the sidewalks on either side. Her heart leapt painfully and worry filled her until she wrung her hands together in a panic. What was she going to do? Everyone in Boston was going to see her with him now, including her boss. There was no hiding from this, but she suddenly felt an extreme desire not to get out of the car. She was safe in here, huddled in her seat trying to disappear. As soon as she stepped out, the entire world would be photographing her and announcing her as the only girl Nixon Grey had managed to stay with for a week.

She was proud to be with him, and she loved him, but if anything threatened the security of her job, it was this. She couldn't talk her way out of this. And how could she explain Nixon had surprised her with this only hours after she'd talked to her boss about not being in too deep? Wild panic filled her like ice in her joints, and she nearly trembled in her chair as Nixon climbed out of the car and reached her door. She felt like a caged animal, and her head spun as he reached for the handle to release her. She didn't want this. She just wanted to sit in the car the whole time, out of the spotlight and out of the eyes of the world. She couldn't handle this. She was going to pass out, and then what? How would she explain that? This could not be happening.

The door opened, and Nixon offered her his hand. He practically had to drag her out of the car. She was like a horse fighting and bucking against entering its trailer, except in her case she was fighting to stay inside. Even the touch of him did little to warm her since the panic was so overpowering. Cameras began going off, blinding her, and she blinked dumbly, frozen like a deer in the headlights.

"Just take a deep breath for me Scout, and remember, I'm right here beside you. I've got you, just don't let go." His voice was the only thing to reach her through her animalistic fear. It was so soothing in the midst of this insanity, and she physically leaned into him as he spoke. Her feet moved mechanically forward and she allowed him to lead her toward the stairs. Her heart still raced, but she could obey his order. She had no intention of letting him go, and not only because she was afraid she may faint. Her fingers dug into his arm, probably painfully, but she couldn't help it. She couldn't shake the irrational fear that this was not going to end well. All of her sexual frustration and worry about their tremulous relationship flew out the window, and she swayed on her feet, having to take a moment as they began climbing the stairs to catch her footing. She looked like an idiot who'd never walked in high heeled shoes in her life, and she imagined every magazine ridiculing her for how pathetic she was. Her cheeks reddened at the thought of it, and she wanted to whimper in defeat. This just wasn't her thing. She was mousy little Scout, not some confident goddess who was worthy of being seen on Nixon Grey's arm. Not to mention the fact that she was a detective on top of it all, and her face would now be very openly displayed across the city, and probably the United States.

tell me that we both matter dont we

TEMPLATE BY: THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE MIKEY ! @ CAUTION.

[nixon mason grey]

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AND IGNITE YOUR BONES

- - - AND I WILL TRY TO FIX YOU

Nixon could only smile gratefully as she spoke loudly about handsome he was, knowing it was for the benefit of the receptionist who seemed unable to tear her gaze away from his form. Feeling awkward because of the woman's unwanted attention, Nixon tried to somehow hide himself behind Scout, out of view of the strange woman. However, one could imagine how well that worked in his favor. Scout was too tiny to cause much of an obstruction, and her height difference only made him glance up and over her head, directly into the brown, boring eyes of the woman. Huffing, he saw the young lady huff in irritation as Scout announced that apparently she wasn't the only one who thought he was handsome. "Apparently not." His tone was tense and unhappy, but only Scout would be able to read the real emotions behind his voice. She was the only one who could really read him and he appreciated that more in this instant than he ever would. Sighing, he just shook his head and focused his attention on Scout. Nothing would ruin this evening.

He would not allow it.

Steadying himself by kissing the back of Scout's fingers softly, he grazed his teeth playfully over her knuckles before releasing her from his intensity, wrapping his own hand comfortably around hers. He already felt like he had been with Scout for far longer than he truly had been. He just felt so complete with her at his side. Glad that she took his elbow, he didn't hesitate when it came to leading her from the lobby, wanting to get away from the creepy girl at the front desk. Forcing a shudder out, he gave Scout a look. "I'm going to have to find a different entrance Scout." He said with a mocking tone to his voice. The truth was, Nixon wouldn't really care normally, but this night was about Scout. He didn't want anyone there to upset her, to make her uncomfortable, to feel as if they could upstage her. It was quite obvious that every other woman would pale in comparison to her beauty, but he was too shy at the moment to say such a thing. Shy was not a word that normally described Nixon, but he felt it now. Especially as he knew that she noticed his nerves. She had learned him, his deepest secrets, his personality, more on the day that they spent together lounging around than any other time. He didn't mind of course, but he still had yet to tell her about his family. It just wasn't the right time.

And that was when the thought of his mother meeting Scout scared him. His mother was a drunk whore, one who was money hungry for money that she didn't deserve. She would no doubt ask her son for money tonight and he would give it to her because he knew it was easier than refusing her. It usually shut her up too, but he knew he couldn't be that lucky tonight. She would see Scout and she would attach to her like a leech, and she wouldn't be polite. Nixon wouldn't allow it, but he could not filter the woman's mouth no matter how hard he tried. Furrowing his brow as he launched himself around the front of the car, he tried to let it go. Scout was a strong young woman. She would be able to handle herself. He knew it. It was then that he heard her confession, that she wouldn't have refused his invitation to the event tonight. Looking over at her dubiously, he arched an eyebrow in response, but only nodded. She wouldn't, he knew somehow, that she wouldn't. The sincerity in her eyes told him that much. He wondered how she would react if he told her that he had donated a million dollars to the local orphanages to split up. He had the money to spare, and that donation came from Grey Enterprises. It was legal money. He was done with his criminal activity, slowly, and he was not the kind of asshole to involve orphanages in his risky business.

Sighing softly, he just focused on driving, unable to keep himself from occasionally glancing over at Scout and admiring her in the dress his maid had helped him pick out. She had agreed on the color and he was glad for it. Scout really did look absolutely breath taking, and he knew that was why he was so uncomfortable at the moment, Trying his best not to be turned on all over again, he adjusted himself in his seat, gunning the engine so that they could get there faster. It seemed things always got hot and heavy during their car rides. It had happened every time so far and he wanted to get to the event quickly before she could reach over and tease him. He wouldn't put it past her to be quite honest about it all. It was then that he heard her comment about him being as handsome as always, and he tried to look mildly offended. "You mean I look like I normally do? I don't even look special?" He was teasing her, trying to get her to relax before they arrived at the event. There was no way that he could prepare her for what she was about to go through. The cameras, the lights, the crowds...it was everything that Nixon was used to. That was the way he lived his life and he wanted too share it honestly with Scout. But he would never do something that made her entirely uncomfortable. He didn't notice the look of pure terror that had gathered on her features as he ducked out of the car, but he noticed it instantly when he opened her door.

She didn't want to get out. He could tell instantly and for a moment, he nearly acquiesced. He spoke his words, trying to comfort her, trying to give her some added confidence. It didn't work, he knew, he noticed, and he was about to give it all up for her sake before she took his hand and forced herself out of the car on wobbly legs. Instead of making Scout take his elbow as was what was expected, Nixon wrapped his arm firmly, gently around her waist, feeling her wobble and sway into him from the shock of it. "You're okay baby, it's alright love. I've got you. You're doing fine." He comforted her, concern knitting his brow as he escorted to the stairs that led to the inside of the building. The press was eating up the tenderness that was shared between them, snapping pictures left and right. Nixon knew that it wasn't helping her at the moment but there was honestly nothing that he could do. Keeping her close to him, protectively, he wouldn't let her go even as she struggled up the stairs. His arms supported her carefully, his steps matching hers as he made sure she could do this. Afraid that she was going to pass out, Nixon leaned closed to her, his lips going to kiss the side of her head as they reached the privacy of the landing. There were no flashes here, no questions, no shouts, not crowds. It was just them and Nixon let her compose herself, still holding her gently, but that want to protect rising within him.

"Are you okay? We don't have to do this. We can go back, we can leave right now and it'll all be okay."

He told her honestly, quietly, willing to ruin a bit of his reputation by leaving an event he was expected to attend. He didn't care. She was obvious not comfortable here. She was obviously not okay with what was going on. He wouldn't do this to her. Taking her face in his hands after a moment, he decided to try one last ditch attempt at getting her mind off of the crowds and making her think of the only thing that would distract her. He wanted to be kind, but he knew that it would only go so far to assuage her fears. It was time to try a different tactic. Now that they were alone, he could speak to her in any way that he so chose. "I can't wait to get back to your apartment, away from all of this, and get that dress off of you. And then I'm going to fuck you because it's all I can think about doing to you ever since you stepped out of that elevator."

He stated brazenly, his lips capturing hers in a raw, passionate kiss, filled with desperation and want and lust. He desired her in this moment more than he ever had before and he knew that she knew. His lips traveled from her lips, down her perfectly structured jaw, leaving a slow line of kisses down her neck. Finishing his administrations with a parting kiss to her familiar lips, he raised his hands to her face once more and gently ran his thumbs over her cheeks. "I love you." He knew that if nothing else worked to bolster her defenses, that would. Those simple words would keep her going through the night. As she seemed to recover, he made sure they both looked presentable and then wrapped his arm around her waist once more, supporting her.

Stepping forward from their private area, he steered her into the grand room that hosted the event. It was a ball room of sorts and Nixon couldn't believe the audacity of it. Wanting to make her smile at least a little, he gave her a playful wink and then a roll of his eyes. "Show offs." He teased about the hosts, and then suddenly, a blur of black hair with a matching black gown filled his vision and he groaned audibly. "Bloody hell. Scout. I'm sorry." He mumbled to her quickly, stepping in front of her, that unfamiliar want to protect filling him once more. He kept Scout out of the clutches of his mother, keeping her safe as the already stumbling Lydia Grey made her way over to her famous billionaire son. Her breath smelled of vodka and Nixon turned his face away in disgust as she fell into him. His strong form braced her so she wouldn't knock Scout, and he heard Lydia's slurred words. "Well don't you just look like your father dressed like that." She stated bitterly, pushing Nixon's shoulder roughly, drunkenly. Nixon stood as still as he could, not wanting anything to happen to his girlfriend.

"Mother. You're already making a scene and I just got here. If you want to talk, we can do it privately, but you had better control yourself before things get out of hand, like last time." He stated evenly, unable to hide the hatred from his voice as he swiped the champagne fluke from Lydia's manicured fingers. "Enough." He hissed threateningly, feeling his mother's hand come up and smack him roughly across the cheek. Anger flared in the very depth of his soul and Scout was momentarily forgotten as Lydia made yet another scene. He could just imagine the headlines now, for the people gathered around them went silent as they heard the resounding slap. It hurt, but his hatred for this woman prevented him from feeling the real stab of the situation. "Are you quite finished?" He asked her viciously, watching as her hand came up again to slap the other side of his face. Clenching his teeth dangerously, his entire body stiffened and he didn't know how much longer he could take this. He provided a life for her now, she could continue living this lifestyle because of what he gave her and she was an ungrateful bitch.

Not wanting to grab her wrists in any way because of the rumors that would spread about him hurting his mother, he stayed in front of Scout, knowing what would happen if the woman saw her. Instead, Lydia's shrill voice rang out again. "What good are you Nixon? You were supposed to have a son by now. What's going on? What's your purpose, you useless, worthless child?!" She squealed, and Nixon felt the tug at his cold heart. He hated her more in this moment than any other. It was then that Lydia's eyes fell on Scout, and her eyebrows shot up in typical Nixon fashion. It seemed he had inherited something from the broad. "And who's that hussy? Another woman to fuck and forget? It's time you settled down and not with just another broad." Nixon's eyes flashed dangerously in that moment and he stepped menacingly towards his mother, his form more tense and ready for attack than it had ever been.

"That young woman happens to be the one that I love, and will continue to love despite any lies you have to create about her to make you feel better about yourself. She's ten times the woman that you will ever be and you would do well to hold your tongue, for once more. Do not talk to her, do not address her in any fashion. If I find you anywhere near her I will have you removed and I will strip everything from you. Do you understand me?" He basically snarled, glad that the attention of the guests had left Lydia because of how embarrassed they were from her behavior. His eyes flicked slowly to the security members surveying the situation and he nodded to the woman who seemed stunned into shock. Knowing that the argument was over for now as the members came to escort Lydia out, Nixon turned fearfully, hesitantly back to Scout. He should have known better. He should have never brought her here.

"Scout I'm so sorry. Please, believe me. I never...this wasn't supposed to happen, love. I...she...I'm so, so sorry. She's drunk, and it's not an excuse, but nothing she said is true. You mean the world to me and if you...if you were ever hurt, if she..."

Closing his eyes, he fought to gain his composure, re-organizing his thoughts so he could hold a normal conversation with his girlfriend. He stepped forward after opening his emotionally charged eyes and softly took her hands in his, running his thumbs over her knuckles. "I'll explain everything to you, I promise. We can leave, I should have never forced you to come here. I wasn't thinking, this isn't fair to you. I'm sorry." He knew that she must have been still panicking and he felt awful for putting her in this stressful situation. This night was certainly not going the way he had hoped or planned. This was a mess and it was all of his fault, and the guilt and the genuine apology showed brilliantly in his grey eyes. His love for her was never more palpable than in this moment, save for when they shared their time together the other night. He just wanted to fix the disaster he had created.

tagged .

[/b] scout words .[/b] 1285
notes .[/b] let the fun begin![/color]

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this lovely template was made by Arro from Caution 2.0 and features lyrics belonging to the oh so amazing Coldplay. please leave all of this credit stuff in tact and leave a link for Miss Roro here if you are going to be using this anywhere. Thank you, loves!

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[SCOUT ELAYNA GREY]

theres a thunder in our hearts baby

so much hate for the ones we love

TAG: NIXON OUTFIT: HERE ONE LAST THING: UGH NO WIFI SUCKS ASS

Her deep horror at the entire situation was so obvious on her face, she knew he recognized it instantly. He didn't even have to be as good at reading her as he was to see it. Everyone on the entire block would see it. It was embarrassing, but she was mortified. If this went badly, if someone saw pictures of them together and figured out that this wasn't just a job to her, then she was screwed. She would no longer be able to protect Nixon, and she would be in just as much trouble as he would be. She was aiding and abetting, and that was as punishable a crime as the crime. She willing allowed him to do what he wanted.

But he promised you he would stop, she reminded herself. Yes, that was what she had to hold on to. She would get the charges dropped, prove he wasn't in the wrong any longer. That thought gave her a shard of resolve, but it was his touch around her waist that really supported her. It didn't turn her on like usual because her fear of the crowd and cameras overpowered her sexual desires in that moment. Instead, it was comforting and powerful, two things she loved about him. As he whispered in her ear, she closed her eyes momentarily, forcing a deep breath into her lungs. She could do this. Nixon was with her, and her boss already knew she was dating him (even if he thought it was only for show). She’d already been seen in the papers with him (their recent show of affection by the harbor not the least among the articles featuring the two of them). All of these people knew she was with him. She had nothing to hide. She figured, if her boss did see any coverage from this night (which he probably would since he wanted to have Nixon arrested so very badly), he would merely believe she was doing a wonderful job at pretending to be Nixon’s girlfriend. She was doing a wonderful job because she actually was Nixon’s girlfriend, but her boss didn’t need to know that.

Nixon supported the majority of her weight as they climbed the staircase, and she felt embarrassed to make such a fool of herself in his presence. He was so dignified, and obviously in his element here, and she was like an awkward social cripple. Convincing herself her job wouldn’t be put on the line because of this – that her protection of Nixon wouldn’t be put on the line – she cleared her mind, focusing on the feel of his arm around her waist as they reached the landing. The curve of the marble columns behind them separated them from the crowds outside that were now redirecting their attention to the next group to arrive. He leaned over and kissed her softly on her temple as they entered the relative seclusion, and she swallowed heavily, glad to be out of the spotlight.

Looking over at him, she shook her head as he offered to leave. “I’m fine. It’s fine,” she assured him, managing to smile as the stress and worry wore off. “I don’t want to leave. I like being here with you.” Her eyes glittered as she looked up at him. She really did enjoy being seen with him, and it sent a thrill through her to know she was his girlfriend when he’d never had an official girlfriend before. As she answered, he faced her and took her face in his hands. Naturally, her hands reached up to rest on his wrists as her eyes watched him with an innocent spark to them.

His words scandalized her, and she flushed instantly, that familiar tug going off in her stomach like fireworks. Her lips parted slightly and she couldn’t help smiling up at him. “Mmmm,” she hummed, pleased. He kissed her then, and the entire world outside of the two of them disappeared for her. She no longer heard the snapping of the cameras and the yelling voices of the paparazzi beyond their secluded little area. She felt the urgency in his kiss, and another sensual wave stirred deep in her belly. Kissing him back deeply, grateful for his support during her moment of weakness, she resisted throwing her arms around his neck. She’d been without him for too long – even if it had only been a few days. She craved his touch, but she used all of her willpower to keep herself under control. Even if they were relatively alone, she knew she had to behave herself. But after he’d spoken those heated words about wanting to fuck her since she’d stepped out of the elevator at her apartment building, all she could think about was his fingers tearing her dress from her skin. He further exacerbated her daydreams by moving from her mouth, down her jaw and onto her neck where he knew he would drive her insane. Her insides churned and flip flopped wildly, and her thighs tightened as she was forced to clench her teeth so as not to moan right there. Finally, he relented and allowed her to breath as he kissed her lips, softer this time, but it was a promise that he would live up to his word.

She opened her eyes as he leaned away from her, and she almost sighed with disappointment. Listlessly, she looked up at him as his hands cupped her face once more. Those three words he murmured to her warmed her, and she smiled brilliantly at him. She was more than thankful that they had managed to keep their tenderness with one another instead of losing it the way they had after their first meeting. She knew it was thanks to their back and forth, arguing and reconciling, at her apartment. It was much more than sex to them now, and she couldn’t have been happier. “I love you,” she answered, her voice thick with the desire he’d instilled in her.

Relaxed now that she knew she had his support, she could focus on recovering her composure. She easily leaned against him as he rearranged his jacket and then wrapped a comfortable arm around her waist. The grand hall beyond their little moment of seclusion was vast and beautiful, decorated with twinkling lights and beautiful people. These were the elite of Boston, a group of people she had never met. Every woman was dressed in her finest, and the men were dapper in their tuxedos and suits. Eyeing Nixon out of the corner of her eye, she smiled to herself, knowing she had arrived with the most attractive man of them all. He turned slightly toward her and offered her a wink, teasing about the charity being showy. She scrunched her nose and giggled to herself. The way he seemed to read her mind at times was uncanny. She loved the beauty of it all, but it was so showy and unnecessary. What could orphans benefit out of an extravagant party for a bunch of over-rich windbags?

She barely noticed the intrusion before she heard him curse and apologize. He released her and pushed her gently behind him, so her vision was blocked of the woman who stumbled into him. Confused by the interruption, she stepped back as the woman fell against him. Her face came partially into view as she collapsed against Nixon’s shoulder, muttering something about him looking like his father. Nixon’s response to her sent a shock through her: his mother? She knew nothing about his parents other than the fact he didn’t want to talk about them, but she could visibly see his disdain for this woman who had given life to him as he tensed beneath her and pushed her away. His voice wasn’t harsh as he spoke to her, but his tone was hard and edge like a knife. He jerked the champagne flute from his mother’s hand and Scout watched in mild horror as she watched the situation unfold between them.

She’d never had a bad relationship with her father, so she was surprised by how clearly Nixon hated this woman. It broke her heart to see it since she’d never had a relationship with her own mother. She hated to think this woman had been so foul to him that he didn’t even want to talk to her in public. She felt the eyes of everyone in the room as they turned to watch with disapproval, the travesty unfolding in the middle of the room. It wasn’t directed toward her, but she still wished she could melt into the crowd.

Suddenly, Mrs. Grey reached up and slapped him so soundly on his cheek it echoed in the immediate silence. Scout covered her mouth with her hand as she gasped in surprise. The motion instantly enraged her. How dare she hit her own son that way? Her father would never have hit her like that, and he had never even hit Leo although the two never saw eye to eye. She was mortified for Nixon as he hissed and asked his mother if she was finished. The unadulterated rage in his voice sent a shiver down her spine, and she was jostled as he shifted his weight in front of her. She realized he was shielding her from this monstrous woman, and her heart went out to him. She didn’t need him to protect her from this, didn’t want him to if this was a part of why he was the way he was. His behavior toward women made perfect sense to her now. He’d had a horrible example growing up, and she marveled at the fact he could actually love her. She realized then what a hurdle he had crossed to admit he loved her, and her heart flipped happily.

The woman’s voice rang out shrilly, cacophonous in the silence her little show had induced, and Scout’s cheeks flushed bright red as she heard her words. The only good Nixon was to this woman was his ability to produce children? What kind of mother said something like that? She ground her teeth as her own ire spiked at his mother’s words.

Randomly, her eyes focused on Scout, and her eyebrows raised, regrettably reminding Scout of Nixon. His mother’s hair was almost jet black, very unlike his coppery blond hair, but her sculpted cheekbones and perfect nose had been passed down to her son. Unlike Nixon, however, his mother had years of looking down her nose at people written into her face through the stress lines around her mouth and the sour look which Scout imagined must be a permanent fixture on her face. She could have been beautiful, and perhaps she had been at some time long ago, but now she looked like a bitter old woman.

Her words cut instantly into Scout’s exterior, slicing her so resolutely that all she had left was a raw, angry wound. Rage filled her chest, and her fists clenched at her sides as his mother brazenly called her a hussy, asking Nixon if she was just another of his many one night fucks. You bitch, she screamed in her head. How dare she? Scout was not a hussy, and she was about as far from a whore as a woman could get. She’d only slept with two men before Nixon, and even those she barely counted since she hadn’t felt anything with them. Only Nixon made her body sing with pleasure when he touched her.

She shifted her weight, her body mindlessly moving to react to the old woman’s words, but Nixon was there before she could act. His words acted like a bucket of cold water over her. Even as he shut down his mother’s horrible accusations, his words glowed about Scout, and she sucked in a breath to ease her anger. He had just admitted in front of all of Boston that he loved her. He went so far as to threaten disinheriting his mother because of her horrible words, and Scout felt her chest swell as he defended her. When he was done reprimanding the harpy, he motioned for the security detail to remove her and the crowd went back to ignoring them, the dull hum of many conversations rising in the room once again.

When he turned to face her, she saw the horror in his face as he apologized for his mother’s behavior. His eyes closed and she swallowed heavily. “It’s not your fault your mother is a bitter old harpy,” she blurted simply. There she went again, her tongue speaking the truth without her permission. She probably needed to work on the filter between her brain and her tongue. She snorted amusedly, realizing what she’d just said, and she smiled up at him. “It’s okay, Nixon, really. I just want to know how in the world she got that way. How could anyone be so… empty?” It was the best word to describe the woman really. She honestly felt sorry for her. She had a handsome, intelligent, wildly successful son, and she couldn’t just appreciate him for what he was. All she could focus on was what he hadn’t given her – namely a grandson, the thought of which did something funny to Scout’s insides – and not on the simple fact that he honored her by being the man he was. But that woman didn’t deserve honor. She deserved to be slapped in the face and told a thing or two, but Scout managed to keep that thought to herself.

He reached for her hands, his thumbs running over the back of her skin and making her knuckles burn with a pleasant warmth. He promised to explain everything to her and then he was apologizing again. Shaking her head resolutely, she squeezed his hands to urge him to look at her. “I am not going to allow you to leave an event you deserve to attend because of her,” she stated firmly, her eyes flashing with resolve. “What just happened reflected poorly on her, not you. You handled it like the gentleman that you are.” She smiled lovingly up at him, glad they were part of the crowd once again so she didn’t have to worry about someone seeing the hopeless sincerity in her face as she watched him. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that she adored him. She couldn’t hide it. Her hand cupped the side of his face, clean-shaven for the first time since she’d met him, and she wrinkled up her nose playfully. “You’re gonna have to stop shaving,” she teased, her voice dropping as she tugged his hands so he was close to her and her lips were pressed against his ear. “It tickles more when you… well, you know.” She raised her eyebrows pointedly, her eyes flashing seductively as she leaned away from him with a coy grin on her face.

“I’m going to get us some drinks,” she announced nonchalantly, winking playfully as she turned away from him and headed to the bar. She was certain he watched her as she walked away, so she teased him further by allowing her hips to sway gently with her flowing gown. Feeling more confident now, she even smiled at the party guests as she made her way through the crowd toward the wet bar against one wall. Once she reached it, she leaned over on the counter and smiled nicely at the bartender, requesting their finest Scotch for Nixon and a simpler drink for herself.

Movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention as she stood patiently awaiting the drinks, and she turned slightly, recognizing the police chief and his wife making their way through the crowd to greet her. Panic rushed through her and heat rose in her throat, and she was afraid for a moment that she might throw up. Her boss had been here the entire time, and he’d probably seen firsthand her pathetic entrance coupled with Nixon’s open displays of affection and the incident with his mother. The chief was a large, broad man, his eyes creased around the edges by the smile he almost constantly wore. His wife was smaller with a short blond hairdo that curved in around her jaw, and her eyes twinkled as she smiled. They were obviously a happy couple, and they boasted four children all of whom were either Scout’s age or younger.

The chief’s eyes twinkled knowingly as he urged himself through the crowd, his eyes on Scout, examining her green dress critically but the smile never leaving his face. “Hello, Scout,” his wife greeted pleasantly, wise enough not to hug her and instead took her hand and squeezed it in greeting. Scout managed a weak smile and a nod, wishing not for the first time this evening that she could just disappear. After the outburst of Nixon’s mother, how could this get any worse?

Well, it just did, she thought to herself as her boss stepped up beside his wife, towering over them both. “You look lovely, Miss McCallister,” he commented, remembering the pseudonym she’d created. She smiled nervously and thanked him, her eyes flickering across the crowd to see if Nixon had noticed them yet.

“Don’t worry, we won’t give your cover away,” the chief murmured conspiratorially with a wink for added flair. “Do these charity events help you to get inside Grey?” he asked, and Scout fought not to blush at his poor choice of words. It’s usually the other way around actually, she thought wryly to herself, but she nodded calmly instead. “It was a surprise really. It gives me new insight to him,” she admitted, subconsciously thinking about his mother and how she’d clearly affected Nixon’s attitude and life.

“Good,” the chief confirmed with a nod of approval. Relief flushed through her. They didn’t suspect anything, or if they did, they didn’t let on. Her blue eyes scanned the crowd once more as the drinks arrived, and her thoughts meandered back to Nixon. She saw him then, his gray eyes watching her through the crowd. Oh no.

“Where is he?” her boss asked, his curiosity clearly piqued. She almost shook her head wildly to tell him not to press the issue, but she didn’t. “I kinda want to meet the bastard.” He smiled amusedly. He wanted to meet the man who he wanted to throw in jail because the irony behind that was almost more than he could bear. She’d worked for him long enough to know her boss’s undying love for the ironic. “Um, I’m sure he’s around. I should probably be going actually. He’ll be looking for me,” she stated, barely controlling the impatience in her voice. She needed to be far away from them, and she needed to go now. The last thing she needed was another confrontation.

Unfortunately, as she looked up, she realized Nixon was advancing on them, and he didn’t look pleased. His eyes were impassive, so she couldn’t tell if he was angry with her or if he’d noticed the head of police and his natural protectiveness had kicked in again. She braced herself for the impact as he easily slid through the crowd toward them.

tell me that we both matter dont we

TEMPLATE BY: THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE MIKEY ! @ CAUTION.

[nixon mason grey]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, background-color:#555555; width:400px; padding:15px; border: 15px solid #111111; border-radius: 60px 0px 0px 0px;] [/style] [style=font-family:CENTURY GOTHIC; font-color:#111111; font-size:16px; text-align:center; line-height:120%; letter-spacing:4px; align: center;]LIGHTS WILL GUIDE YOU HOME

[/div]

AND IGNITE YOUR BONES

- - - AND I WILL TRY TO FIX YOU

He knew that her words of only minutes before could hold no truth now. She couldn't possibly want to be here with him now, not after his mother dared to such say degrading, vile things. He knew that there was no truth behind her wild accusations of Scout, but no one else did. No one else knew Scout like he knew her, and even though they knew to take Lydia Grey's words with a grain of salt, they would begin to wonder. He could just imagine what the tabloids were going to start printing about Scout now, and he couldn't bare to bring her that pain. She didn't deserve it. He had pulled her into this lifestyle with no regard to her personal well being and feelings. He truly was a selfish asshole and he couldn't even protect the woman that he cared about the post.

His breath hitched as he turned to look at her now, the shame and embarrassment of what his mother had just done to him smoldering behind a carefully constructed mask of coolness. He wouldn't let his emotions show. Not here, not now. Not those emotions. They only showed weakness and he could not look weak here.

Especially when the emotions were caused by his mother. He had sworn off his mother ever since he was a young boy. The woman held no love for him and he never expected it. But he expected her to behave in a public setting, which she didn't seem to be able to handle. Sending her for rehabilitation for her incriminating habit was something that was desperately starting to consider, but the repercussions that decision could have to his family's name was not something that he was willing to change just yet. However, her display just seconds ago had Nixon stinging from the reality of it all. The hope to earn her love had long since diminished, and he didn't know why he was allowing the altercation to have such an affect on him. Deep in his heart he understood. He didn't want Scout meeting his mother in such a fashion because he didn't want Scout to see what his mother saw in him.

Nothing.

Nixon didn't want to be nothing to Scout, and he knew that if his mother put his worth into question, the woman who was supposed to have raised him, then why shouldn't his girlfriend? His grey eyes, once so sure of themselves, once holding so much confidence shattered before Scout as he stood in front of her, searching her for any signs of being upset. He didn't blame her for being offended. The words that his mother spoke were false and harmful and Scout didn't deserve them. Why she would want to stay here with him now, or in general was beyond him. His mother was a raging alcoholic and she could not control herself, even in a setting such as this. Nixon could feel the stares as his mother was carted off, and he heard the whispers of the people gathered. He was embarrassed to put it lightly and he couldn't even think of a way to salvage this evening. His mother always ruined everything he had fixed the last time she had an outburst and he didn't know how to fix it this time. She had never hit him before, she had never laid a hand on him whether to hug him or to hurt him. This was different. She took her abuse to not only an emotional level, but now a physical one and it threw Nixon off. His mind, normally filled with ideas and thoughts was now a blank slate, and that realization hit him harder than he would have thought possible.

But Scout was speaking to him then, blurting out what he knew she deserved to say. He didn't feel an ounce of loyalty or protection over the woman that had given birth to him. He hated her more now in this moment then ever before and he knew it was because she had assaulted Scout with her slurred, drunken words. He forced an easy smile upon his face at his girlfriend's words, and he nodded in response. "I know, I know." The but that was meant to complete that sentence never came and he didn't mean to bring it back to her attention again. What if he was a better son? What if he was the man that his mother so desperately desired him to be? What if he could drop the life that he was living now and find a woman, and get married. What if he had done that already and produced the heir that she wanted so badly? It wouldn't mean a thing to Nixon but then again, not much did. Except for Scout. And as he thought about all the what ifs of the situation he knew that he could never trade in what he had now. Scout made him feel things that he had never felt before. She made him happy and he desired that happiness now, that sense of completion. Without her he felt like he didn't know who he was anymore and he craved her affection, her attention. Although he never showed it, he was just as addicted to her as she was to him.

Sighing softly, his tense shoulders relaxed only microscopically, for he could not relieve the frustration that his mother had just set upon him. Trying to relax after the confrontation, his busy mind couldn't stop imagining the paper headlines tomorrow. He was certain he had seen the flashes of cameras when his mother had raised her hand to slap him. And all the while he had been standing in front of Scout, protecting her from the onslaught that was to come. They would have those pictures. Nixon felt like a part of him was ruined, but as Scout assured him that it was fine, he tried to believe her. When he asked why the woman was like that, Nixon shook his head, scoffing bitterly, hatefully. "Because she's a horrible shrew of a woman that married for money instead of love. The Grey family was not built on love Scout, I can assure you." He announced coldly, his discontent not aimed at her, but so intense that it was palpable. Shaking his head slightly, he allowed himself to become lost in his sea of hatred, that familiar impassive look traveling over his eyes as he closed himself off to the world again. It seemed as soon as he allowed himself to take one step forward in improvement, he was set back three more. He was trying desperately to become the man that Scout deserved, but his lifestyle influences were hurting him in his mission.

Feeling her hands squeeze his to get his attention, he turned his rather dejected, yet bitter gaze to Scout, softening as he gazed into her familiar blue eyes. The love that was there instantly filled him with warmth. He didn't need the love of his family when he had Scout. As she assured him that they didn't have to leave because of the scene that his mother had created, he nodded in response, unable to find the words to express his gratitude. It wasn't that he had a problem with leaving, but it was more the fact that she was comforting him now. In a startling moment of clarity, he realized that they would always somehow manage to comfort the other and be there for each other. It was something that took his breath away, and the love and devotion that he felt for the woman in front of him sparked brilliantly in his fathomless eyes. Her hand touched his newly shaved cheek, and he heard her statement. He had to stop shaving? Furrowing his brow, he looked at her in question, but then she was tugging him forward, and he was forced to step closer to keep himself from crashing into her. As her lips brushed against his ear, his sweet spot, he felt the shivers of pleasure course through his stomach.

His lips parted in an involuntary gasp from her actions, and as he heard her words, his eyes darkened with the lust and the desire that he felt for her. It seemed they had another way to distract the other from the things that were bothering them the most. A wanting smile appeared on his features suddenly as she pulled away from him with that familiar coy grin on her face. She was asking for it, he hoped that she knew that. He conveyed that knowledge through his eyes as he looked at her, and then was left speechless as she announced that she was going to get them some drinks. Feeling rather hot and heavy, Nixon turned away from her for the moment, his smoky eyes surveying the room in front of him filled to the brim with investors and crooks and the average billionaire. One of his clients quickly caught his attention and he sighed in annoyance. He really didn't want to deal with business on this evening, and as he thought about what would pleasure him instead, his eyes flicked back to the form of his retreating Scout. An eyebrow raised as she sashayed her hips purposefully, making her gown flow perfectly around her shapely body.

He couldn't wait to tear that dress off of her later.

Forcing himself to resume control over his lusty libido, he tore his eyes away from her rather regretfully, since the man who had given him his money was soon at his side. "That was an interesting episode with Mrs. Grey, I'll say." Nixon's eyes flashed dangerously as the man had the gall and indecency to bring up the moment that Nixon wanted to keep buried for as long as possible. Not even bothering to acknowledge those words from his client's mouth, Nixon spoke up, forever the professional. He didn't mix with his clients on a personal level. It wasn't safe and it wasn't practical. "Can I help you with something Mr. Fey?" Nixon's tone was cool and collected, his arms crossed over his chest in a defensive position. Mr. Fey shook his head, the grin spreading over his features. "No, no. Not in the business sense, Nixon, please. This is a night meant to enjoy ourselves so ease up, chap. I just want to socialize." Nixon didn't socialize with clients. His eyes were already elsewhere, fixated on the form in the olive green dress, leaning against the bar as she put in drink orders. He watched the eyes of the bar tender rake offensively over Scout's body, seeming to focus on her cleavage. As Fey rattled off about the mundane, Nixon simply nodded his head and offered the easiest responses.

"I'm sorry to hear about your grandfather, Mr. Fey. You have my condolences. But it seems my attention is needed elsewhere. Please, enjoy your evening and hopefully we can talk again soon." Not if his life depended on it. Shaking the hand of one of the most annoying men he had ever met, he shifted his position so he could watch Scout like a hawk as her attention seemed to focus on an approaching person. Her body tensed visibly and Nixon noticed the change in her with uneasiness. Was someone going to harass her? Why the sudden change?

As the rather large man appeared with his wife, he instantly recognized the chief of police. His grey eyes narrowed immediately, and the uneasiness bloomed in his chest. Why was Scout talking to that man? It was obvious that he was here to enjoy the evening with his wife, but what were his motives in talking to Scout? Why would she be talking to the chief of police anyway? Acquaintances? Or annoyances? Scout seemed displeased by the man's presence which sent Nixon's jealousy back to its corner for the most part. Debating on whether or not to approach, he saw Scout move back from the man and his wife, obviously trying to disengage from the conversation. However, the man seemed to be rather intent on talking to her, and Nixon cursed the audacity of this police chief. He was conflicted. Thoroughly conflicted. While his criminal history was locked up tight, Nixon didn't want to engage in conversation with the enemy. But Scout's comfort level was obviously on the line and he'd be damned if she would suffer another altercation this evening.

Gaze steaming, he pushed himself forward, weaving his way easily through the group, his demanding and intense presence parting the way for him. People nodded to him in greeting and he returned the gesture, however, he was intent on reaching the bar. As he suddenly appeared by Scout's side, he furrowed his brow and looked down at her, completely ignoring the chief and his wife. "Everything alright?" His question seemed simple enough but the tone that it held made it obvious that he was not pleased. He didn't need anyone else badgering Scout on this evening for she had already been through enough stress. His dark, tremulous eyes turned to gaze stoically at the two people in front of Scout. "Good evening sir, miss." He nodded to each one of them individually, feigning innocence over to their identities. His hand went out formally to shake the chief's hand, as was customary and gentlemanly. To anyone who didn't know him, he was absolutely unreadable. The chief would know how successful Scout had been in getting into this criminal's life. To Scout, his entire form was screaming fury and he was doing all that he could to hold it in. "Nixon Grey." He offered to the chief when questioned, his hand still in the man's.

Finally releasing him, he offered what could be deemed a polite smile to the chief's wife, but it was quite apparent that he was cold and aggravated. He just wanted to take Scout out of here by now. They could just call it a night and go home. Fuming silently, it was quite obvious that Nixon was having a bad night. His face, already red from where his mother had slapped him, was now paling from his intense anger. He had had it.

tagged .

[/b] scout words .[/b] 1285
notes .[/b] let the fun begin![/color]

[/div]

this lovely template was made by Arro from Caution 2.0 and features lyrics belonging to the oh so amazing Coldplay. please leave all of this credit stuff in tact and leave a link for Miss Roro here if you are going to be using this anywhere. Thank you, loves!

[/style][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[SCOUT ELAYNA GREY]

theres a thunder in our hearts baby

so much hate for the ones we love

TAG: NIXON OUTFIT: HERE ONE LAST THING: UGH NO WIFI SUCKS ASS

She innocently missed the bartender's scrutiny of her as she leaned over to grab the drinks, forgetting about her own view of her cleavage in the car on the way here. She was so oblivious to any other man besides Nixon that she didn't even register the licentious look the server gave her. Then her attention was directed at her boss and his wife, and she could think of nothing else than how close she was to being found out. She silently prayed Nixon wouldn't suspect anything if he saw them. She hoped he would chalk up her sudden uneasiness as a reaction to the recent news that he was a criminal. This was believable since that was precisely why she was uneasy right now as her boss questioned her about him.

And then she knew he'd seen them. She glanced toward him and saw him easily parting the crowd to reach her, and her heart jumped to her throat. He was so powerful as he bullishly marched toward her, and she had to look away from him as she saw the intensity in his eyes.

Then he was there, his presence like a blast of hot air on her, sending her mind reeling from his nearness. Thankfully, he was the only person here who could sense that sort of reaction from her, and she successfully maintained her cool as she glanced at the chief and his pleasant spouse. "Everything's fine," she replied easily holding her eye contact with him to communicate that she was okay, recognizing the irritation in his tone. Accepting her response, he turned to offer the chief his hard gaze, nonplussed in front of the very man who could order him to be put away for his crimes. His calmness and his bravery, the fact that he would have the audacity to be angry at the police chief instead of cowering before him, made her fall more in love with him than she already was.

His arm easily slid around her waist as he introduced himself to the police chief, and her cheeks reddened shyly. Although her boss knew the arrangement - or thought he did - this open display of affection made her burn. Her mind lost its train of thought, and she reminded herself her boss was literally observing her every move. She couldn't appear as hopelessly lost in Nixon as she really was. It would be the end of her ability to protect him, and that she could not sacrifice.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Grey. Chief George Luther, at your disposal," the police chief answered jovially. He was enjoying this, enjoying how Nixon ignored any pretense of knowing him when he knew full well the billionaire was deeply aware of his existence. They were archenemies in a sense, and Scout berated her inner comic book nerd for such a comparison as Luther piped up once more. "I was just telling Scout here that I remember her from that day she convincingly got the charges dropped for you down at the station." The chief looked at her with a pleasant smile. "She is very good at getting what she wants out of a man, am I right, Mr. Grey?" he asked innocently.

Scout blushed, thoughts of her numerous heated nights spent in Nixon's bed rushing unbidden into her mind, and she looked away from the chief as his wife elbowed him and said, "George, really." She felt Nixon tense beside her, and she felt his anger rolling off of him. After the altercation with his mother, she imagined he was tired of being here. Would it be rude for them to leave so soon?

Offering him the Scotch she'd ordered for him and hoping that was the sort of thing he liked, she smiled politely at Luther and his wife, summoning all of her feminine grace. "Please excuse us. It was nice to see you," she commented amiably, glancing away from her boss's gaze before he could make any facial expressions to cause her to blush once more. They politely allowed the conversation to dissolve, and she succinctly separated herself from them, gently guiding Nixon away until they melted back into the crowd. She knew none of these people, so she didn't know if someone else they knew would arrive, and she hoped they could be alone for a moment.

Gripping his wrist, she looked up at him, her eyes drawing him out. She felt his unhappiness, and she paled at the red mark on his face, shaped perfectly like his mother's hand. The mark made her frown disapprovingly and she found herself wanting to find the woman and show her what a real slap felt like, but she kept it to herself. Gently, she touched the side of his face and pulled back, afraid she might hurt him. "Are you okay? Tell me what you need from me. I'm out of my element here," she admitted, as if he didn't already know that. She wanted him happy like he'd been that day spent in her apartment. She hated seeing him angry again, even if it wasn't directed at her. Now that she'd seen one of his parents, she understood how deeply that wrath was seated within him, and she wanted to fix it all but she had no idea how. A savior complex was a hard thing to please when dealing with a man as inscrutible as Nixon Grey. She could read him better now, but he was still closed off to her as she peered into his eyes and pleaded with him to just let her be there for him for whatever he was going through. "Do you have to give some kind of speech or something?" she asked, glancing around the room as she took a sip from her drink.

tell me that we both matter dont we

TEMPLATE BY: THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE MIKEY ! @ CAUTION.

[nixon mason grey]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, background-color:#555555; width:400px; padding:15px; border: 15px solid #111111; border-radius: 60px 0px 0px 0px;] [/style] [style=font-family:CENTURY GOTHIC; font-color:#111111; font-size:16px; text-align:center; line-height:120%; letter-spacing:4px; align: center;]LIGHTS WILL GUIDE YOU HOME

[/div]

AND IGNITE YOUR BONES

- - - AND I WILL TRY TO FIX YOU

Nixon felt as if he hadn't been this angry in a long time. He knew that it was because of what his mother had just done to him in the middle of this charity event plus one of the other people that he hated the most was now talking to his girlfriend. Talking to his Scout. Fury coursed through his veins, making him feel as if he was getting an adrenaline rush even though that wasn't the case at all. Nixon was just so angry that he couldn't fathom calming down at this moment in time and he was doing all that he could do not to take it out on the people around him. He was not his mother. He would not make a scene. He knew how to compose himself. But he had never felt anger this palpable before. Not even when he found out about his half, illegitimate brother.

Keeping his cool as he looked down into Scout's eyes, he heard her admittance that everything was alright, and saw that mirrored in her eyes. He knew that he had no choice but to believe her, but to trust her. If he didn't it was going to cause another huge fight between them and after the situation with his mother, he simply did not have the energy. He was still stinging with the embarrassment from the show Lydia had chosen to put on and he refused to allow anyone else to bring it up. So as he slipped his arm around Scout's waist naturally, he felt her tense beneath his touch, but his focus was more on the chief. He would be the man who had the audacity to mention the Grey family meltdown. And Nixon would cut him down as nicely as he could. Maybe nicely wouldn't be the word for it. Shaking those thoughts from his mind, he studied the man who wanted Nixon behind bars more than any other person on this planet. He knew of his plans, of his wants, of his goals. So far, knock on wood, he had been able to pin even a slight bit of evidence on Nixon. The billionaire was playing him just as the chief was playing Nixon. In the next two months or so, Nixon was going to plant a mole inside the precinct. Even though he had vowed to give up his criminal activities, it would be nice to have someone on the inside.

Regarding George Luther stoically, he listened as he introduced himself. Nixon would love to dispose of him, that was for sure, but he forced a pleasant smile onto his face as he shook the man's hand. "The pleasures' mine, I'm sure." Only Nixon Grey would have the confidence to face the man who wanted to throw him away behind bars for the rest of his life. But he was calm. He was collected. Luther and his force could have nothing on him at this moment. He had had no slip ups, no mistakes were made. The paper trails that could exist were locked up secretly in a safe in his office. They would have a hell of a time finding it if they ever received a warrant to search the premises. To put it mildly, he was completely sure of himself, even with Scout in his life. Hearing the next words from the police chief, talking about the day that Nixon was arrested. That was the day he was wrongfully arrested and fury rose in him before he could stifle it. "I think your men to be re-evaluated." He finished cooly, his voice holding nothing but malice and discontent. They had shown him nothing but brute force when he had been apprehended. His face had just finished healing from it all. Trying to calm himself, he succeeded and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, silently.

He nodded a bit in response to the chief's words. "She can be quite persuasive, yes. You have no idea."

His words sounded simple and complimentary to Scout in a harmless way. Only Scout and himself would know the true truth behind those words, for Nixon's stoic expression gave nothing away. He was not that kind of person, but if the chief wanted to play, then he would play. His aggravation was reaching new levels as he stood there though, and he looked down as Scout suddenly handed him a glass. Taking it between his fingers, he studied it, recognizing the scotch easily. It was a drink that he enjoyed but his queasy stomach wanted nothing to do with it at the moment. Holding it in his hand while he held Scout in his other, he tried to think of a way that they could remove themselves from this conversation. He wasn't afraid of the chief, but he was obviously uncomfortable to anyone who knew him. And right now, the only person who knew him was Scout. As she excused them, he couldn't be more thankful, and he exchanged polite goodbyes with the Luther couple before him. Not removing his hand from Scout, he suddenly downed the glass of scotch, needing to bolster himself for the rest of the evening.

No matter how badly he wanted to leave, he couldn't. He was expected to be here, expected to say although he was not absolutely miserable. When she gripped his wrist after leading them away, he deposited his empty glass on the table near to them and looked back at her. When she questioned him, he knew that he couldn't lie to her. His walls were up, there was no doubting that. But it didn't mean that he had to keep things from her. Sighing in slight defeat, he looked down at the ground, not wanting to meet her eyes while he admitted a weakness. "Honestly, no. I want to leave but we can't. I don't think there's anything you can do right now, I'm sorry love." He wasn't trying to make her angry or offended in any way, but his anger was too immense, it was too great. It was making him feel sick and he didn't want Scout to get involved with that. He knew that he was going through something, he just didn't know how to describe it. He also didn't want to feel weak. Pushing those thoughts out of his mind, he looked to her once more.

"And you're doing fine, even if you are out of your element. You've made less of a scene than I have." He announced bitterly, feeling her hand reach out to hesitantly touch his swollen cheek. Her cool fingers felt relieving and welcome. Closing his eyes, he let out a breath as she broke the contact, wishing more than anything that she would touch him again. He wasn't sexually driven at the moment because of everything that had happened, but that didn't mean he couldn't become that way again. Looking her over in her green gown, he just shook his head. "You're so beautiful." He was trying to take her mind off of him, to change the subject. It wasn't that he didn't want to take about himself, because he knew it was about time, especially after tonight, but he was just tired. He nodded a bit at her next question. "I have to say a few words about my donation. It'll only take five minutes, not eve, I promise."

tagged .

[/b] scout words .[/b] 1285
notes .[/b] let the fun begin![/color]

[/div]

this lovely template was made by Arro from Caution 2.0 and features lyrics belonging to the oh so amazing Coldplay. please leave all of this credit stuff in tact and leave a link for Miss Roro here if you are going to be using this anywhere. Thank you, loves!

[/style][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[SCOUT ELAYNA GREY]

theres a thunder in our hearts baby

so much hate for the ones we love

TAG: NIXON OUTFIT: HERE ONE LAST THING: I have internetz!

Considering how whirlwind her evening already was, she handled the confrontation between her boss and Nixon rather well. She was proud of herself. Her old confidence found its way back in those moments. When she'd first met Nixon, she'd been confident enough to tell him in front of everyone at his birthday party that she thought he was a pompous asshole. Since then, she'd found herself a victim to her two-sided life, and she'd lost a bit of her control. But realizing she loved Nixon and he loved her back softened her. She wasn't as harsh to the world around her, and she'd essentially found her femininity again. She'd been 'one of the guys' for so long, she'd forgotten it could be fun to be a woman. Nixon certainly made it fun for her, anyway.

Her cheeks flamed at the chief's words about her getting what she wanted out of a man and she felt Nixon shift beside her. He commented that she was very persuasive, and a thrill raced from her breastbone down to the pit of her stomach. If only the knew. Nixon knew, and she recognized that his comment was as much for her benefit as for the chief's. She managed to smile benignly, but her nerves prickled with an inexplicable anticipation (perhaps because his scandalous promise from earlier in the evening still clung to her mind). Feeling his tension as he held her with his free arm, she knew she must make an exit for him. She politely ended their conversation and departed.

She could see the weariness in his gray eyes as she asked him if there was anything she could do to make his evening better. So far, he'd been having a terrible time, and she hadn't helped any with her pathetic show when they'd first arrived. She cringed to think she had been a helping factor in the exhaustion in his face, and she bit her bottom lip slightly. He admitted there was nothing she could do, and while she felt defeated, she knew he didn't mean it in a derogatory way. He had always been a private man, and she knew the episode with his mother must have been especially hard on him: exposing such a private part of his life for the world to see. She hadn't even seen that about him, and she knew she was closer to him than any woman had been before.

Tenderly, she touched his face, and she was mildly surprised by his reaction. Instead of balking at her touch, he welcomed it, and she was amazed by the 360 degree turn they'd taken in just a month. Their entire affair had been impetuous and fast-paced, reckless even, although she hated to admit it. That first night, she never would have imagined she would spend the night with him, awoken for the first time in her life by his touch. She had hated him, hated how sure he was of himself and how vain he was, but she'd come to realize since then that he wasn't really that person. His confidence kept him upright, but underneath it all he just wanted to be loved. And she wanted to be the woman to love him. She already was.

How he had changed her. It amazed her. He'd softened her from the hard, bull-headed person she'd been when she first met him. She knew she had changed him as well, and she was fascinated by the changes between them.

He sighed slightly as her hand left his skin, and a pleasant tingle ran down her legs at his reaction. His eyes ran over her, and her chest swelled with a deep breath as she stood beneath that gaze. The events of the night couldn't stop her from wanting him, but she managed to keep that desire out of her posture. However, she couldn't keep it from her eyes, and she was thankful there were no cameras around. Her eyes burned into him as he told her she was beautiful. A small smile played at the corner of her mouth and she managed to look away from him, her hands smoothing down her dress as she calmed her thoughts. "Thank you," she replied humbly. "It's mostly the dress, you know," she teased, grinning sweetly up at him and cocking her head to one side.

He confirmed he had to speak about his contribution, and she nodded. Reaching to him, she squeezed his hand and offered him a supportive smile. She was his girlfriend, and the thought thrilled her. She was supposed to do this. Her boss knew she was his girlfriend, even if he only thought it was a show, and she was free to hold his hand if she wanted. That freedom made her feel dizzy, and her lips parted slightly as she breathed deeply. "I'll be right here when you're done," she promised, leaning over to plant a chaste kiss on his reddened cheek before releasing him to do what he had to do.

tell me that we both matter dont we

TEMPLATE BY: THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE MIKEY ! @ CAUTION.

[nixon mason grey]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, background-color:#555555; width:400px; padding:15px; border: 15px solid #111111; border-radius: 60px 0px 0px 0px;] [/style] [style=font-family:CENTURY GOTHIC; font-color:#111111; font-size:16px; text-align:center; line-height:120%; letter-spacing:4px; align: center;]LIGHTS WILL GUIDE YOU HOME

[/div]

AND IGNITE YOUR BONES

- - - AND I WILL TRY TO FIX YOU

He had ruined this evening, he knew. His mother had been a contributing factor but the way that he was letting it affect him now was almost as bad as her outburst. He wasn't normally like this and he honestly didn't understand why his mother had gotten under his skin in the matter that she had. Never before had he felt so insecure, never before had he ever felt so worthless. Looking back on his life, what did he truly have? Sure, he was worth billions, trillions even with the recent illegal investments, but did that buy him true happiness? He had always thought that the answer to that question was yes, but now he wasn't so sure. The way he felt when he was with Scout was a way that he had never felt before. And his mother had just opened his eyes.

While Nixon would never lose his intensity since it was so ingrained within him, he wondered if it would kill him to be nicer to people. It wasn't like it would be an overnight change, and he honestly didn't know if he could do it, but he would try for Scout. She didn't deserve an asshole for a boyfriend, that was for sure. Sighing softly to himself as he scrutinized the police chief in front of him, he realized he felt no fear for a man that he should be entirely respectful of. He knew that the man was good at his job, there was no doubt about that. You didn't rise in the ranks for a name or because of people you knew. Nixon understood that. He knew that George Luther was perfectly capable of putting him behind bars if he had the correct incriminating evidence. But Nixon Grey was always one step ahead of the game, or so he thought. He couldn't be caught.

His thoughts were everywhere and he realized that he was merely confusing himself by allowing them to flow so freely. Smiling polite to George's wife, he gave Luther a respectful farewell handshake, forever the proper gentleman. While he didn't receive the etiquette classes that his bastard of a brother went through, he was still raised around the lifestyle, the social class of the rich. His mother would make certain that he never stepped out of line, when she was actually around. Shaking all thoughts of that horrible wretch of a woman out of his mind, he tried desperately to focus on Scout as she stood before him, trying to comfort him to the best of her ability, with the little information that he dared to give her. Her sincerity shocked him but he didn't let the emotion play across his eyes. He didn't want her thinking that something was actually wrong with him and if he showed surprise, she would suspect.

Comforted by her gentle touch, he forced himself to pull himself together. The truth of the matter was that his mother had really affected him, which was something that never happened before. Being struck by the woman who gave birth to you, no matter how much you hated her, was not something that was possible to take lightly. Besides, she had done it in front of the large crowd that made up the charity event and Nixon still burned with the disgrace of the entire situation. Hearing her humble statement of gratitude, he turned his eyes to inspect her as she looked away from him, smoothing down the dress as she did so. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he realized in that moment how much he truly loved the girl standing in front of him. He didn't know how she did it, he couldn't explain why. He knew that they had their issues with trust and deceit and their tempers, but when all of that was down, when they both just allowed one another to be vulnerable, the love was palpable. Anyone could see it.

Now, while they were away from the cameras, while they were away from the people who would judge them, Nixon allowed himself to be tender, which was something that didn't usually come so easily. When she blamed her beauty on the dress, he shook his head slightly, looking at her with only devotion behind his eyes. "You'd be beautiful even without the dress, love." His words, so simple, yet so true. He knew what they would do to her, he wanted them to affect her. He wanted her to know what she did to him because he knew it would be the biggest confidence boost that he could give her. She deserved to feel confident, to feel beautiful, and he would do all that he could to do that for her. When she reached for his hand and gave him a reassuring, supportive squeeze to his fingers, he returned the gesture, hearing her words.

"It won't take long, I promise. And then we can leave."

He whispered softly as she leaned up to kiss his red colored cheek. Trying not to think of the mark that was so obviously displayed, he leaned to her and gently kissed her lips, lingering for a few moments. "Thank you." He whispered against her mouth, kissing her once more before finally pulling himself away from her. Straightening out his coat, he heard the speaker introducing the contributions. Nixon wished he hadn't made such a big contribution because then he wouldn't have had to go up on stage and be thanked for it. Sighing to himself, he waited at the stairs until he heard himself being introduced, then took the stairs two at a time to reach the stage that was erected in the home owner's great room for events such as this. The bright lights positioned on him made his eyes sting, but it was a sensation he had become so used to. Watching as the flashes of cameras went off, he was disappointed when he realized the lights made it impossible for him to find Scout out in the crowd.

Sighing softly, he adjusted the microphone in front of him, knowing what question was on everyone's minds. Why had he made such a large donation? Was it for more spotlight? Was it for a better reputation? He knew why he did it, but saying that was not something he would announce easily. He was too private of a man, but he could give them something.

"I know you're all wondering why Grey Enterprises made such a large donation this year." His British accent was precise and staccato, clear and natural as he addressed the murmuring crowd beneath him. A small smile pulled at the corner of his lips but he managed to keep himself composed. "The children of the orphanages deserve it, simply. They've struggled long enough and I found it fitting to donate the sum to a charity so deserving. I jumped at the opportunity and I'm sure that they will be pleasantly surprised, not only from my donation, but from the others as well. Thank you to everyone that managed to donate. I know it won't be wasted." The words, so unlike anything that had come from Nixon Grey's mouth before, shocked the crowd into silence. However, the applause came soon, polite, appraising. No one knew that the Grey son had it in him. The movement was so unlike what his father would have done, but he didn't care.

What he said was true. What did he need the money for? He had plenty and he wished he had made a larger one. But he was still obviously affected by something as he made his way back to Scout, his nerves on edge, his heart beating in agitation. Giving her a distracted smile, he reached for her hand and started for the door. "Come on, we need to leave." He announced sporadically, his voice holding an edge to it that had nothing to do with the desire that he felt for her. He wanted her, there was doubting that, but he was obviously bothered by something. The doormen nodded their heads to Scout and Nixon as he gently steered her along, the pace fast, but not impossible to keep up with. He felt like he was going to be sick. Gathering his keys, he tipped the valet generously and opened Scout's door for her. Closing it behind her, he got in, his hands shaking as he lifted the keys to try to place them in the ignition. Dropping them suddenly between his feet, he swore in agitation.

"Oh for fuck's sake." He wasn't mad at Scout, which was quite obvious. He didn't even know if anger could be used to describe his mood at the moment. Reaching for his keys quickly, his gaze averted from Scout, he finally managed to get them but dropped them again. He had never been so out of it before, he had never not been composed. This was new for him. This kind of hectic emotion was not welcomed, and he suddenly had to sit back in his seat, his breathing coming fast and short. What he didn't realize was that he was simply having a panic attack. "Scout, I have to....just....hold on." He managed to stutter out to her between ragged breaths. Getting out of the car quickly, he realized that the valet was looking at him strangely. Ignoring the man, he waved him off as he saw the question alighting on his face. "I just...need a minute. Ate something...wrong." He offered as an excuse and then walked away from the car, feeling lightheaded and sick.

Struggling to breathe, he leaned against one of the columns that held up the covering to the driveway closest to the house, his back to the festivities. His head was swimming and he doubled over now, his hands bracing themselves on his thighs. He was going to be sick. Trying desperately to regain control over his racing heart, he nearly cried out from the stress of the situation, but no sound would come. He didn't know how to fix that, and that fact alone got him more worked up then ever. This was an awful, awful night.

tagged .

[/b] scout words .[/b] 1285
notes .[/b] let the fun begin![/color]

[/div]

this lovely template was made by Arro from Caution 2.0 and features lyrics belonging to the oh so amazing Coldplay. please leave all of this credit stuff in tact and leave a link for Miss Roro here if you are going to be using this anywhere. Thank you, loves!

[/style][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[SCOUT ELAYNA GREY]

theres a thunder in our hearts baby

so much hate for the ones we love

TAG: NIXON OUTFIT: HERE ONE LAST THING: ---

Her heart fluttered as she looked up from her dress and into his gray eyes. His blatant admiration for her was there, and it made her breathless as he shook his head and claimed she would be beautiful without it. Her thoughts briefly flitted back to his words when they'd first arrived, and her eyes glinted up at him as she smiled. She nodded as he assured her his speech wouldn't take long, and then she kissed his cheek. He caught her off guard by turning his face and kissing her on her lips as she leaned away from him. Her stomach clenched and she hoped she wasn't blushing again. There were no cameras, but she was sure these socialites and their husbands were already talking about them. She would be the subject around town before tomorrow dawned, she was sure of it. Awkward Scout would be the new gossip.

But she didn't care about that as Nixon pulled away slightly, his lips still so close to hers that she felt him mouth the words 'thank you' before kissing her again. She was dizzy from the kisses, and she took a deep breath as he straightened his jacket and departed for the stage.

Easing her way into the crowd, she relinquished her barely-touched drink to a passing waiter, and moved so she could get a clear view of Nixon as he spoke. His rich voice filled the speakers as he explained why his company had contributed so much to the orphanage. She smiled to herself as she listened to him and watched him. She could tell this was something he felt good about, even if no one else in the crowd knew. Dropping her eyes from Nixon as he finished his speech, she suddenly found herself making eye contact with George Luther. He smiled slightly at her, an approving smile, and nodded his head with a wink. She weakly smiled back at him and glanced away, feeling her chest fill with guilt. She didn't feel guilty for loving Nixon, but she felt guilty that she'd lied to him about her job. She felt guilty that she'd entered into this with him on the pretense of getting into his life and spying on him. When she'd walked into Upscale that night, she'd fully intended to flirt her way past his defenses to find some dirt on him to put him behind bars. But he'd managed to get under her skin, and she'd been so instantly attracted to him that she couldn't concentrate. She'd even given up and tried to leave, but she'd cornered herself and Nixon had followed her. And the whirlwind started from there.

She'd set aside her job that night, giving in to her rare desire for him, and she'd been crushed beneath the sheer enormity of her lust. It had been about sex that night, she had to admit that. It was a physical thing, something that lit her on fire and wouldn't let her cool off. They'd had sex at least three times in the same night, and she'd never imagined she could feel that intensely. But the sex, however amazing, wasn't what had caused her to fall in love with him. She refused to fall for a guy because of how she felt physically toward him. No, she'd fallen in love with him for all of his brokenness, his obvious desire to show nothing on the outside but his inability to hide what he was really feeling to her. He could read her, and he communicated with her unlike men before him. They had their pitfalls in the honesty and trust departments, obviously, but she knew he had a heart underneath his cold exterior. He'd shown it to her more than once now. Although their physical connection and addiction to one another had opened that line of communication, she relished that he'd let her into his heart.

As he finished speaking, the room watched in stunned silence, and Scout impulsively began clapping for his words. It was beautiful, what he wanted to do for these children he didn't even know, and she wasn't ashamed to be proud of him. The crowd followed her, clapping politely as he climbed down the stairs. He appeared so cool and collected on the stage (not an ounce of stage fright, unlike her), but the moment she saw his face as he descended to the floor, she saw the shift on his features. He was an expert at keeping his face a blank slate, but she'd come to know his face very well, and she saw the unease in his eyes and in the way his lips formed a straight line. Shifting, she pulled back into the crowd and moved toward him, careful that no one would step on her dress that she was sure cost a small fortune. The last thing she wanted to do was ruin it.

She exited the edge of the crowd that continued staring up at the makeshift stage as the announcer continued about the donors and thanked the hosts. As she freed herself, Nixon was suddenly right there, and he firmly took her hand in his, smiling at her flatly. He stated succinctly that they were leaving, and she obediently followed him. He moved quickly, urgent to escape this place, and she gathered the flowing fabric of her dress into her free hand as she hurried after him. His tenseness was tangible as they passed the doormen and exited into the cool night air. The sun had long since dropped below the horizon, and she was thankful for the rush of cold air over her. It cleared her head.

Stumbling slightly as she piled herself into the car, she frowned with consternation as he rushed around the car and climbed in. The keys tinkled as his hand shook, and she glanced from his fingers to his face as he managed to drop them. This was very unlike him. Nixon was the penultimate of grace and sophistication, and he was hardly ever clumsy. He cursed as he retrieved the keys and attempted to crank the car a second time and failed. His head sank back into his seat, and his breath was coming too quickly. Worry for him spread over her, and she reached to touch him, to ask what was wrong, but he muttered something incoherent and then climbed hastily from the car.

The strange behavior instantly made her panic for reasons she couldn't explain, and she leaned over to save the keys from the driver's side floorboard, safely tucking them away in her palm as she opened her door to climb out. Unfortunately, she hadn't had enough time to fully untangle herself from her dress, and she almost fell out on her face as she tried to climb up onto the curb. Thankfully, the valet rushed to her aid and took her hand, helping her to disentangle herself from the car. Once she was free, she curtly thanked the man and turned to search for Nixon. She was afraid she'd lost him as she pulled her gown up into her hands and worriedly raced off in the direction he'd taken.

She came to a breathless halt as she saw him leaning against one of the columns of the massive driveway leading away around the side of the house. He was doubled over as if he had just thrown up, and she gasped, "Oh!" Naturally, she ran to his side, her hand slipping around his back and her dress rustling to a stop around her feet. Seeing he hadn't been ill yet, she held him, her arms supporting him around his back as he wheezed. He was having a panic attack; she'd seen it before. She'd been close to one herself on more than one occasion, the time V shot her being one of them. She was familiar enough with dealing with victims of various horrible crimes to recognize the signs of distress.

Dropping to her knees beside him, not thinking about whether it would mess up her dress until it was already too late, she reached for his shoulders, pulling him to face her. As he turned, she gripped his face, not roughly but forcefully so he would look at her. She steeled herself against his wild gaze and tried to ooze calmness into him. She had done this many times, bringing a victim out of a state of shock after an assault or even a rape once. She'd seen that feral fear and panic in their eyes, and those were strangers. This was her Nixon. She wanted more than ever before to help him.

"Nixon, calm down," she ordered gently, her voice taking on the tone of control she had when she needed it. She'd been complimented for her abilities to soothe people before, and although she'd had her world throw off kilter by him, she called on her natural abilities to help him through this. "It's okay, do you hear me?" she asked, refusing to release her hold on him until he promised her he was alright.

"Sit," she urged, tugging on his shoulders to guide him to the ground. The fabric of her dress crinkled and rustled welcoming as she shifted her weight to give him enough room to sit beside her. She didn't care if anyone saw them. She knew they were alone - everyone else had remained within the party - and what mattered was him right now. She didn't even worry about her boss seeing this altercation. The world outside of him had disappeared again. "I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere, okay?" she commented gently, her hands moving from his face and falling to his lap as he sat in front of her. She reached for his hands, taking them in hers and pulling them toward her into her lap. Her thumbs ran over his knuckles and she looked into his gray eyes, her concern evident in her blue gaze.

"Is it your mother?" she guessed, her voice small and sad, not wanting to upset him. Once again, that now-familiar desire to slap the shit out of his mother welled up within her. The woman didn't deserve to have a son like Nixon. She was a bitch, and Scout hoped the attendants hadn't been gentle with her when they'd removed her from the party. An angry glint crossed her eyes, but she didn't explain herself. He didn't need to worry about her thoughts right now. She looked down at their joined hands and sighed audibly before glancing up at him through her lashes. "She doesn't deserve you," she commented, her love for him inching into her voice. "And neither do I."

The last bit slipped out without her thinking, and she bit her lip, wishing she hadn't said it. He wouldn't understand what she really meant, and she couldn't explain it to him without giving up her entire cover. She was a liar and a fraud, and he didn't deserve that. He may be a criminal, and he may cheat people out of their money, but at least there was a Robin Hood-esque characteristic to what he did. But with her? She'd entered into this relationship with him, keeping the most essential fact about herself hidden. Luther wasn't his archenemy: she was. Although her loyalty had shifted to him, she was a liability to him now. If the police found out she'd been willingly protecting him, she would be fired and thrown in jail. He would also be punished severely, and she couldn't bare to think about such things. She died a little inside knowing she couldn't tell him her real name. She wanted to hear it on his lips: Scout Shepherd. But instead, she used her mother's maiden name and had invented the excuse that her father had used that name instead of his own. That saved her father from trying to stay within the confines of her secret identity, Leo also.

Her eyes were big as she looked back up at him and tried to smile comfortingly. She couldn't know how successful she was, but she hoped she could calm him down. She wanted their evening to end well even if it had gotten off on a bad foot. She didn't care about his mother or the police chief or anyone else. All she cared about was him and his peace of mind.

tell me that we both matter dont we

TEMPLATE BY: THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE MIKEY ! @ CAUTION.

[nixon mason grey]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, background-color:#555555; width:400px; padding:15px; border: 15px solid #111111; border-radius: 60px 0px 0px 0px;] [/style] [style=font-family:CENTURY GOTHIC; font-color:#111111; font-size:16px; text-align:center; line-height:120%; letter-spacing:4px; align: center;]LIGHTS WILL GUIDE YOU HOME

[/div]

AND IGNITE YOUR BONES

- - - AND I WILL TRY TO FIX YOU

The billionaire was not known for being a runner. He never ever ran from a fight once he saw it starting. It was the same when it came to altercations with his mother or for anyone who saw the need to cross him. Nixon had such a thirst for victory that losing was never an option. It showed only defeat, it proved only weakness. And right now, he felt weaker than he had ever felt because of the very fact that he had just run out of that charity event with his figurative tail between his legs. His mother had shocked him into this unease and he was furious. But that familiar fury, which he would have welcomed with open arms right in this instant, was quickly masked by the desperation, but the confusion he felt. His own mother had slapped him in front of the most influential, most important people in high society. Not only had she destroyed what was left of her reputation, but she was slowly pulling Nixon's apart piece by piece. If she didn't stop soon she was going to ruin her son's image as well.

The apple couldn't fall far from that tree, in most people's opinions.

Nixon knew what the tabloids were going to say and he honestly didn't want to face the morning. He didn't want to see his mother making a fool out of herself, making a fool out of him. He just couldn't bring himself to study the papers. Panicking for the reason as well as for a multitude of others, he tried to relax but the relief would not come. He knew that his erratic behavior was going to alarm Scout but there was nothing that he could do about in this moment. He needed to regain his breath, he needed to regain his composure before he could even say two words to her. She didn't understand what he had said before he exited the car in a flurry of movement and a part of him hadn't expected her to. He wasn't thinking that she was going to come after him and when she did appear beside him, Nixon tried to wave her off. This was embarrassing. This was weak. He didn't want Scout to see him this way. He was supposed to be strong and cool and composed. This was not the image that he needed her to be viewing at this moment.

"Go Scout, go." He pleaded with her, and tensed as he felt her familiar touch when she snaked her arms around his waist to help hold him up. While he appreciated the support more than she could ever know, he couldn't let her be here for this. However, she was just as stubborn as he was and he knew in his rapidly beating heart that she wasn't going anywhere. Heaving in a breath, he nearly choked on it, feeling as if his lungs were collapsing from the effort it took to try to pull in the desperately needed oxygen. His face, once reddened by the assault from his mother, was now as pale as a ghost, and he was trying to get the air that he needed. Wheezing uncomfortably, he felt like he was about to lose the rest of his composure. Nixon Grey was on the verge of tears. This was something that had never happened in all of his life.

He was distracted as Scout pulled him to face her, his form still doubled over in his discomfort. Her hands were on his face in seconds and he was forced to look at her, despite any of his complaints. Refusing to cry in front of her, he called upon the remainder of his strength, not wanting to look any weaker than he already did in front of her. Gasping for the breath that didn't seem to want to come, he closed his wild, fear filled eyes, for they were the only thing that would allow her to read him. She couldn't see that he was afraid. She couldn't see that he was as broken as he was. He put on that front, the front that he was strong all of the time to hide who he truly was, what he truly was. Nixon was ruined, or so he had first believed. He could never love, which had been disproved, but he still believed it in his aching heart. What if this wasn't love? If he could see the way he looked at Scout he would understand that it couldn't be anything other than love, but it still scared him to never be enough for her.

"You have to g-go." He managed to confess to her, but she would have none of that. She was telling him to calm down, she was telling him that it was alright. But it wasn't alright, nothing was alright. He had built their relationships on lies. She still didn't know that his father was dead, that his family had disinherited what his mother called a "bastard" son. He had a brother that he never wanted to talk about. He was a horrible, horrible man. He was mean, he was temperamental, and he was a bloody nightmare to deal with on more than one occasion. And he had lied to her. He had blatantly lied to her. "I lied....it's all a l-lie. My f-family..." He shook his head, not knowing how he could even begin to explain what his family was, what his past was like. But she didn't give him much time to think about it, for she was urging him to sit and before he knew it, he was doing just that.

Bowing his head as he sat on the ground, he slowly started to regain some of his breath, pulling oxygen into his slowly expanding lungs. Keeping his chin resting on his chest so she couldn't see his eyes, he knew that he was pushing her away. He knew that he was closing himself off from her and he couldn't change it. His over-exhausted body trembled visibly as he sat against the column that was his support system and his teeth chattered loudly as she announced that she wasn't going anywhere. He could barely manage to nod his head, for his exhaustion was palpable. This night hadn't gone as planned at all. If it hadn't been for his mother he knew that things would have been fine. Moving his legs listlessly, he sat Indian style in front of her, her hands and his dangling in his lap before she pulled his hands into hers. Feeling her touch did nothing to him, which instantly caused him to worry. What was wrong with him? He didn't know what was happening, he didn't know how to explain any of this, but Scout launched into a question.

He balked visibly when she asked if it was his mother, shaking his head stubbornly. Most of his breath had returned, although his body still shook from the tremors. "No." His teeth chattering made the word sound strange and foreign. "I could care less about that woman. I'm looking forward to the day she gets put in the ground." His words were hateful and sad, bitter and biting. His hate for the woman was something that could not be matched, and the one of the reasons for it was obviously put on display tonight. He had half a mind to hire someone to kill her so he didn't have to watch his own ruin.

That was when he heard Scout's last words. She didn't deserve him? She seriously wasn't going to start that again, was she? His exhausted eyes flashed bitterly as he pushed his still shaking body to its feet. "Get in the car." He wasn't going to cause a scene here. He wasn't going to yell and fight with her as they normally did when they were alone. Oh no. He had had enough embarrassment for one evening. He regained his composure enough to brush himself off, then helped lift her to her feet, not giving her much of a choice. Even though his chest was on fire he didn't care. He wanted to get to a home...he didn't care which one, and they were going to solve this issue once and for all. He couldn't say anything else to her to make her see that she did deserve him. He was tired of it, frustrated with it, and his obvious emotional change was because of her. While he appreciated that she just calmed him down enough for him to try to drive, he was igniting with fury.

Turning his harsh grey eyes to her, he spoke lowly, his voice taking on a tone different than he had ever used with her. "Scout. Please get in the car, now. We don't need anyone to see anything else this evening." It was emotionless, but sharp at the same time. He strode quickly to the car, his breath still hitching occasionally until he reached her door. Yanking it open, he waited for her to climb in, even holding his arm out so she could help herself.

tagged .

[/b] scout words .[/b] 1285
notes .[/b] let the fun begin![/color]

[/div]

this lovely template was made by Arro from Caution 2.0 and features lyrics belonging to the oh so amazing Coldplay. please leave all of this credit stuff in tact and leave a link for Miss Roro here if you are going to be using this anywhere. Thank you, loves!

[/style][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[SCOUT ELAYNA GREY]

theres a thunder in our hearts baby

so much hate for the ones we love

TAG: NIXON OUTFIT: HERE ONE LAST THING: ---

Here she was trying to show her care for him, trying to get him to calm down, and he kept pulling away from her. It stung, but she understood it. He was a private person, and his entire life had been on display tonight. First, her when they'd gotten out of the car being bombarded by cameras, and then his mother with her horrid outburst. Then he'd had to deal with the police chief, with his speech added to top it all off. It was like some horrible kind of cocktail.

When he spat his open hatred for his mother, she paled visibly, her hands subconsciously slipping from his as if she'd been stung. She had already figured out he hated his mother, but she didn't realize just how intense that hatred was. However, this was Nixon Grey after all, and he did everything with intensity. Still, her subconscious thought to her own mother who she'd never known, and she wilted to think that he hadn't loved his. What would she give to have her mother here instead of in the grave? The thought almost brought tears to her eyes with its suddenness, but she remained too worried about him to dwell on it for too long. Even though he hated the woman, she couldn't blame him and he wasn't required to love her because Scout had lost her mother. That wasn't fair to him.

She muttered that she didn't deserve him, and she felt him react instantly. He rose to his feet and practically glared down at him. She had managed to anger him. But as he looked down at her, his words cut through her like a raw blade. He was commanding her to get in the car, and even if she was upset for him, she didn't like being demanded to do anything. She was an adult, and a lady. Her anger also piqued because deep inside her subconscious did a licentious little cartwheel at his words. There was a part of her that ached with a dull desire for him to force her to leave, and she berated herself for it. Was she insane?

Grinding her teeth together so her cheek tightened with the action, she glared up at him, her blue eyes icy. She wanted to defy him, but she knew he was right. They didn't need any more drama here, in front of all of these people. But, she'd been damned if he didn't hear about this later.

Rising from the ground gracefully, she kept her cold gaze on him and stalked past him toward the car, her fists clenched against her sides and into the green fabric of her dress. Red filled her vision as she raged at the thought that she was actually obeying him. Damn you, she thought to herself as she halted beside the car, stubbornly refusing to make this easy on him. He'd started the evening teasing her and making her want him, and then he'd allowed himself to be human around her, and like always when that happened, he closed down and became a brick wall. It infuriated her, and she fumed, her arms crossing over her chest as he opened the door. He asked her to get in, and she trained her eyes away from him as she climbed in, stubbornly refusing his arm and stuffing herself into the car independently.

As he rounded the hood, she unceremoniously tossed the car keys into his seat and sat stoically in her seat, staring out the passenger's side window so she didn't have to look at him. Before he could ask, she hissed, "Take me home." If he wanted to be mad at her because she was being honest and admitting she didn't deserve him, then fine. She could be mad at him for being mad.

It was childish, but she didn't care. She hated the ups and downs they often had, and she didn't know how much more of it she could take. When they arrived at her apartment complex, she hastily clambered out of the car before he could get out and open the door for her. "Good night, Mr. Grey," she snapped viciously, slamming the door behind her. Turning, she gracefully entered the lobby, her anger fuming out of her ears. If she'd been a cartoon character then smoke would've been pouring out of them.

As she passed the receptionist desk, she noticed the girl smile amusedly at the fact that Nixon was no longer with her. As if it was some sort of petty victory: 1 Receptionist, 0 Scout. The face pissed her off even more, and she glared daggers at the girl. So harsh was that glare that the receptionist gulped and looked down at the book she'd been reading, content to allow Scout to go on her way. That's right, bitch, she thought wickedly to herself, I win.

She stalked to the elevator, her mind so full of red hot rage that she didn't even notice if Nixon had left or not. With the way he'd behaved, he probably had. She was horny and unfulfilled and now she was angry. She'd probably spend the rest of the evening shopping for some evil sex toy online just to entertain herself. Hell, she'd need it if things kept going like this between the two of them.

Punching the up arrow on the elevator so hard it hurt her finger, she relished the pain. When she was angry, she'd been known to hit things (another trait they had in common), and the pain helped to bring her partially to her senses, but she wasn't ready to give it up completely. She just needed some time alone.

tell me that we both matter dont we

TEMPLATE BY: THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE MIKEY ! @ CAUTION.

[nixon mason grey]

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AND IGNITE YOUR BONES

- - - AND I WILL TRY TO FIX YOU

He knew that she was angry by the way she rose quickly, gracefully to her feet without taking the offered help of his arm. Seeing the heat rise in her expression, Nixon knew that he was in the wrong here. She had done nothing but comfort him, support him, through this entire evening and now it was as if he was throwing it in her face. But this was his way. And this was how he knew that he could and would never be loved. As soon as he allowed someone to get close to him he pushed them away. It wasn't as if he was speaking from experience, but he knew that was why he kept all of the other people in his life at a safe distance. It wasn't fair. If he loved her, he would let her in. The walls that he had so carefully constructed had to be torn down, and not just temporarily. He needed to let her in. He just couldn't do it at the moment. He was too rattled from his moment of extreme weakness. He was too out of it by the dramatic display he had just put on and been through.

The night had been nothing but stressful for him, except for when he was supporting Scout in the beginning. That was what he was here for. He didn't expect her to handle this society effortlessly. This was not where she came from and he wouldn't ever expect her to be flawless when it came to her behavior. The cameras were shocking, the paparazzi like leeches. They would be trailing her through Boston now because of him and a part of him felt extremely guilty about that. Her every move would be watched, and if she wasn't careful then some parts about her life might be exposed. He needed to warn her about that, but he wasn't concerned at the moment. Right now he was concerned with how obstinate she seemed to be. If she caused another scene here, so help him, he was going to lose what little composure he had left.

However, she got in the car and slammed his door, causing him to grumble even more about the price tag on the car, which would not have been audible to her. Slamming himself into his seat, he shut the door with a little less gusto than she did and placed the key into the accelerator with a little less trouble than last time. Finally succeeding in revving the engine to life, he heard her biting command from the passenger seat and he dared to turn his steaming eyes to her. The intensity that filled him now was nothing like she had ever seen before. It could be considered frightening. His emotions were running at an all time high and he didn't know how to control it at the moment. "Watch it, love." He still could not seem to stop calling her the pet name he had adopted for her, even when his anger was raging. Although it was unclear if he meant for it to be sarcastic or not, it was still present, and that meant something.

Ignoring her beside him completely now, which was not his way, even when she was mad at him, he punched the gas pedal as his left foot hit the clutch to shift the standard Mercedes, and he zoomed off rather recklessly. He was used to driving fast, used to driving carelessly, but he was good at handling the car. Driving was something that he did in his spare time, and he usually dragged one of his many employees out to some random part of the state to test the speed on one of his many toys. This Mercedes had been out plenty of times, and it was obvious as he sped around corners and blasted through red lights to get her to her apartment, as ordered. When the vehicle screeched into a space, he let her get out without even moving to get out of his own seat, knowing she wouldn't let him open the door for him anyway. Snarling under his breath as she stampeded to the door, he knew that he could not let her walk away like that.

Whether or not they were mad at each other, he still loved her.

Or at least, he thought it was love. What else could it be? Gritting his teeth because of his pride, he didn't want to do the chasing, but for once, he would. She had always chased him in the past. Still grumbling under his breath, he looked to the street before he opened his car door before wrenching it open and then slammed it behind him even though the price tag was still a distant problem in his mind. Locking the expensive vehicle, he trounced after her, his footsteps sure and graceful, as was his way. Yanking the door open to the lobby, he watched as the receptionist looked up at him hopefully. His eyes smoldered, and not in a desirous way, and she let him by without making a peep. Glad that she held her tongue and her gaze for once this evening, he was certain that she happened a chance to check him out as he stormed past her. As his hands still shook from the panic attack he had just suffered through, he saw the elevator doors closing in front of him without a view of Scout.

Catching the door with his hand before it managed to shut, he slipped in through the narrow opening that he had created for himself, staring at her victoriously as the door rumbled shut behind him. He could just imagine the jealousy of the receptionist. In another second, his predatory grace allowed him to cross the elevator, not caring if there was a camera to see their actions. His hands braced his body on the wall on either side of her shoulders, not giving her an escape even if she desired one. His body was pulsating in desire for her but he expertly controlled it, as he usually did.

"If you ever question your worth again concerning our relationship, so help me Scout. I'm sick and tired of you not having the confidence in yourself to realize that we're supposed to be together. Does it mean nothing that I have never, ever wanted to be with another woman before you, and I will never want to be with another woman after you? For fuck's sake, Scout. No one else will ever be good enough."

He slammed his right hand against the back of the elevator wall, close to her head but not hitting her in any way. He would never lay a hand on her, ever. He would rather die before he did a thing like that, no matter how uncontrollable his rage was. His form trembled now, the rage adding to his exhaustion and making him feel as if he was going to fall. Pushing those thoughts from his mind, he studied her form in front of him and then could not hold back anymore. He knew what she craved for, he could see it in her eyes despite the fury there. She wanted him and that pissed her off even more. Pushing his hips into her so that she was totally pinned against the wall, he leaned in, inches from her lips and looked into her eyes. "You are mine." He threatened her, warned her, satisfied her. The words came with a low growl from his throat, unable to keep that from appearing beside his statement.

And in that moment he gave her what he knew she wanted, and what he wanted as well, even though he'd never show that to her. Crashing forward, his lips met hers, unrelenting. The elevator dinged as they reached her floor and he didn't come up for air as he stumbled out of it with her still attached to him, his hands working their way up into her hair as he pinned her against the wall in the hallway. Kissing her breathlessly, harder than he ever had before, he pulled his lips from hers and let his teeth rake across her neck, his hands not releasing her from his clutches. She was totally at his mercy until he let her go so that she could allow them entry into her apartment. "Hurry. I meant what I said at the beginning of the evening." He nearly snapped, but kept the control over his tone so she wouldn't have another reason to be angry with him. She just needed to get them inside.

tagged .

[/b] scout words .[/b] 1285
notes .[/b] let the fun begin![/color]

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