When Muses Attack!

A/N:
Elerrina Rose - oh, I just love that poem! So wonderfully apt for him, indeed! Sometimes he makes me think that he's frightened that no one can or will love/appreciate him enough. Very odd creature he is.

Lily - like that, do you? Mind if I send him over? *laugh* He can be quite insufferable!

Minerva Ann McGonagall - Yes, Harm. I know of him. But not personally. Haldir is enough. More than enough to keep me awake at night and pulling my hair out! AH! I'm willing to share him but you might have to stand in line behind Elerrina Rose, Emmess and Rose Atlee first. *laugh*

~~~

“I cannot believe you are leaving me!” He pouts indignantly. He is taking my vacation as a personal affront.

I sigh. “I’m not leaving YOU,” I explain patiently. “I need to get out of this damned cold weather and make sure the sun still exists. I’ll be back in a week or so. I promise.”

He frowns darkly and folds his arms across his chest, his sullen gaze still following me as I continue to pack. Nothing I can say will make it any better and if he leaves while I am gone . . . well, I’ll just have to deal with that when I get back I guess.

“When will you return?” He demands selfishly.

“Friday,” I murmur, debating on which swimsuit to pack. I decide on both. Why not?

“What about me?” He pouts.

“You’ll be fine, sweetie, really,” I soothe absently, looking in the closet.

Cold silence. I look up to make sure he’s still in the room. He’s giving me his patented “insulted haughty” look but this time he’s added a bit of a bottom lip pout. It’s rather cute actually but I can’t ponder that right now. I need to find a pair of shorts.

“I’ll bring you back something, how would that be?” I sigh. What good a souvenir will do him I dunno. But if it makes him stop with the pouting I’ll promise anything. Why do I feel like I’m raising him sometimes?

The pout still stands. He looks down his nose at me imperiously. If he could have me beheaded I do believe he would in his present mood.

I fold my arms and sigh, the shorts temporarily forgotten. “You aren’t going to stop me. I deserve a vacation. I NEED a vacation,” I tell him tiredly. “And when I come back I will be much more amenable to you and your whims.”

Still no answer – just his continued chilly stare and boo-boo lip. I go back to packing.

He finally realizes that I will not be deterred from my time off and relents. “Will you finish this last chapter before you leave?” He finally descends from “Pout Mountain” to ask.

“Yes, honey, I can do that,” I agree. “Are you going to give me all of the details?”

He smiles wickedly. “But of course!” He is not about to let me leave without one last jab at my hormones.

But that’s ok. That’s ok. Where I’m going he cannot follow and that means I just might be able to score some action! I smile indulgently at him as we walk to the computer.

I call up what we have written and he pulls his chair up next to mine. He is going to torment me mercilessly, I can tell. He’s sitting nearly on top of me and he crosses one ankle over his opposite knee then casually adjusts himself leaving his hand deliberately on his crotch.

I smile and nod, completely ignoring him and his posing. Then the ritual begins. He changes words and adds things as he pours it all out to me.

“This must be just right,” he murmurs several times during the writing. “Just right. I want them to know how she took me. How much I enjoyed it although I could have taken her at any time.”

I continue to smile and nod as I do his bidding, all the while plotting my revenge on some yet-as-unknown male for Mr. Wicked’s – well, wickedness.

“Yes,” he encourages me as I keep typing. “Yes, like that, hmmmm,” he closes his eyes and smiles in remembrance. He shifts noticeably in his seat and I refuse to look at him. I know what he’s doing and I’m not falling for it.

“She owns you,” I say softly as the light finally goes on behind my eyes after a few minutes of reflection. “You didn’t think she could do it. Now you’re stuck.”

He opens his eyes and glares at me. I raise one eyebrow, Mr. Spock-like, back at him. His ass is so had. And I know I’m not going to be the only one in on it. My readers – er his readers – are smart enough to spot that.

“She does not ‘own me’,” he sniffs. “She has merely caught me off guard.”

“Really?” I bite back a smile. “Caught you off guard? Now I’ve heard everything.”

“Yes,” he frowns at the mere idea that another creature could ever seduce him so completely. “She does not ‘own me’,” he repeats.

“Whatever,” I say with a grin. “So tell me what happens with Legolas.”

“Legolas, hmmmm, yes,” he considers this, preening for me. “Perhaps it is he who perishes at Helm’s Deep.”

I give him my patented “as if” look.

“It could happen,” he murmurs suggestively. “Say that perhaps Legolas tries to save me and ends up getting killed in my place.”

“Uhm, let’s say not since I am writing this,” I grunt. “I will not hurt Legolas so deal.”

His wicked “I have her now” grin is back. Damn! Where did I lose control?

“Yes, maybe YOU won’t hurt your precious Legolas but I could,” he says triumphantly. “I could kill him then and there and no one would be the wiser, would they? No one would ever know that I was behind it all along.”

I narrow my eyes at him, wishing all sorts of vile plagues upon his head at the mere suggestion I hurt The Sweet One.

“Hmmm. Think about it, Mel,” he purrs excitedly. “The battle. Legolas tries to save me but I throw him to the enemy instead.”

“Why?” I demand. I can’t believe I’m actually considering this madness. I think Legolas will forgive me for indulging this line of thought. He’s much more down to earth and humoring than His Haughtiness.

“Why not? With Legolas gone I could have her,” he points out.

I think about this - slowly, logically, and carefully. I do not want to hurt the beautiful and sweet Legolas but if the story demands it, I must let it go where it will. How much of what The Wicked One says is logical to the story and how much of it is bullshit designed to simply yank my chain?

“Nah, I don’t buy it,” I finally tell him. “You might be a horny bastard but with Legolas gone it would take half the fun out of it for you.”

He eyes me coolly for a few minutes. “Go on, then,” he dares.

“That’s your whole point, dude. You want what he has and you know you can’t have it. And you can’t resist that challenge. It’s the chase you like, not the actual capture. With Legolas gone, it would change the entire dynamic too much for your taste,” I muse. “There wouldn’t be enough turbulence for you to enjoy it anymore.”

He ponders this. “What is turbulence?” He finally asks.

I wave my hands around frantically in the air. “Messed up, craziness,” I explain.

A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “You know me too well, I think,” he admits. If I didn’t know better I would swear there is a hint of pleasure in his tone. We eye each other carefully in silence and he tips his chin up at me as if realizing that I’m not entirely dim. Well, at least not all the time.

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