*Happy Birthday dedication!!!*

For being good little fannies. ;)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

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          "Faith Williams." Death kicked back on the coffee table, laughing drunkenly as if my name was the funniest thing in the world. He then sat up, eyes unfocused, and waggled a finger at me. "You're supposed to be asleep, missy. Bad. You're still not being a good little reaper like you're supposed to be. Such a bad girl, ease dropping on your Master. Bad reaper. Bad Faith."

            I thought back to Tiara giggling, Death caressing her lingerie, and prayed that my eyes weren't too puffy from crying. God, I was so pathetic. "It was kind of hard not to with all of the...noise," I said dully, "if I didn't know any better, I would say that you wanted me to ease drop. Everything you do is for a reason, isn't it?"

            Death stared at me in a dull way for the longest time, scrunching his eyebrows as if he was really trying to think, then broke into another grin. "Faith Williams!" Death made a raspberry sound with his mouth before barking out laughter. "God, who names their kid Faith? Oh, man....what a ridiculously cliché Catholic name. Faith! Williams! Oh, it hurts. It h-h-hurts!"  

            "I don't even know what to say right now." I stood at the peripheral edge of the room, watching Death as a scared tourist watches a wild animal through a thick wall of glass. Death lazily lounge back on the couch, unfolded his long tongue from his mouth and lapped at the few remaining drops of his liquor.

            "Prove it," he said, tapping at the end of the empty bottle as if a rush of liquid would come out, "cupcake. And pin me down, while you're at it."

            "No, not when you're this drunk." I started towards the coffee table, picking up the scattered empty bottles of liquor and clutching as many as I could in my hands. I stacked them up in the kitchen, coming back into the room to pluck the last bottle from Death's fingers, when he yanked the bottle back, smirking at me.

            "Too slow, cupcake," Death slurred throatily, lazily shifting on the couch so that he lay horizontally, his one leg curled around the back of the couch and his shirt rolling up, revealing the partial V down his hips. "You're going to have to be faster than that."

            When I frustratingly tried to grab at the bottle again, Death's arm teasingly flinched backwards out of my reach, and his shirt rode up even higher, revealing the trail of dark hair around his navel that darted down into his pants....into...into. . . .

            The danger zone. I looked back up at the ceiling, internally slapping myself. But still, my thoughts were wicked and instantly came to conclusions. Good god, isn't even wearing underwear. I shook my head from that unnecessary thought, squeezing my eyes shut and clutching the bridge of my nose between my finger tips. Why was I thinking that after he was clearly just humping Tiara like a horny dog?

            He's ruining you.

            "DEATH!" I shrieked, throwing out my hand towards him, "just give me the stupid bottle!"

            Suddenly, Death shrunk back and sunk deeper into the couch, looking up at me with big, wide eyes. After a moment of us staring at each other, Death miraculously sobered up and handed me the bottle, his eyes never leaving mine.

            There was a flash of sadness in his eyes that I forced myself to look away from. I wouldn't be reeled in again, hurt again by those stupid green eyes. I was ashamed that I had stayed and watched Death and Tiara touch one another. That being said, there was something about being alone right at that moment that didn't settle right in my gut.

            "You're probably really dehydrated," I said, nervously playing with my hands. "Do you.. . .maybe want some...?"

            Death ran a hand through his hair. "A glass of water would be nice," he said hoarsely. His gaze then briefly dropping to my bare legs, then shifted quickly to the coffee table.

            My heart was pounding so hard and I couldn't understand why.

            I was alone in the kitchen, placing the last empty liquor bottle on the counter. Five. He had drank five entire bottles of -- I read the label-- alright, so it was some exotic brand that was impossible to pronounce. All of these just so he could get drunk for how long? Death said he burned off alcohol quickly. Quickly wasn't fast enough for me, I hated this version of Death. He was so...empty when he was drunk. Emptier than usual.

             I looked through his cabinets and found a crystal glass and filled it with water, then placed it a lot less gentle than I should have onto the counter, splashing it everywhere.

            "Thousands of years. Thousands and thousands of years of the same reaction to women that think I'm just perfect..."

            I leaned against the counter and let out a few long, careful breaths. How do you even begin to convince someone like Death that they are perfect? Perfect to you, at least? That it's not just their immortality. I shook myself, turning on the sink so that Death couldn't hear my strangled breaths from the other room. He was probably too drunk to even hear me.

            A dark shadow caught my attention in the kitchen, quickening my pulse. Death crossed the kitchen and disappeared down the long hallway. I heard his bedroom door close, a click, then looked down at my hands to see that they were gripping the counter unbelievably tightly. Was he going to stay his room now?

            I struggled not to cry again. What was wrong with me? Why was I such a baby? I was doing so well keeping my emotions together, and then with everything happening in the gymnasium...Tiara... Everything was starting to really soak in, it seemed. I was really starting to understand how temporary my life really was.

                        " Yes, it's a little refreshing to have someone like Faith that's willing to stand up to me."

            There was a but. There always was a but with Death. Maybe he wasn't the only one that thought I was "refreshing". Maybe refreshing was a nice way of saying I wasn't good enough. Was I good enough for any men? All of my boyfriends in the past-- which was about two in total, and who really shouldn't have been considered boyfriends at all because we didn't even kiss or touch half the time -- had never even bothered to give me a legitimate reason as to why they had wanted to be with me.

            I heard Death's bedroom door open. He walked in a silent way like a predator, blending into the endless black of the hallway. It unnerved me. I rapidly searched for a towel of some sorts, yanking open drawers and vigorously trying to occupy myself from my thoughts. What was I even doing again?

            "But she's a temporary person on this earth, even more temporary because of what's inside of her. I don't have any reason, time, or energy to care for a person that's temporary."

            My hand fell in a puddle of water on the counter. Right. The spill. I finally found a cloth and numbly soaked up the water, carefully drying off the base of the glass and then tossing the towel to the side.

            I briefly over into the hallway again, glass of water in hand. Was he back in the living room again?

            Temporary.

            Peering, slowly into the living room, I saw that Death sitting up and staring blankly at the coffee table in front of him, wearing a fresh sweatshirt and dark jeans. He even smelled nicer, like soap and mint. It was evident that he had washed the grimy smell of vodka and cigarettes from his body and mouth. I offered him the glass of water with a shaky hand, convinced that I would accidently spill the contents all over him.

            Thankfully, his eyes only momentarily dropped down to my trembling hand when he firmly took the glass.

            Murmuring a thanks, Death quickly chugged down the water, set it down on the table, and then fell against the couch until his neck curved along the back of it, his darkening, glossy green eyes fixed on the ceiling. "Why don't you sit with me?" Death suddenly asked, his word still slurred. He removed his hand from the spot next to him, which was no longer bared and gloved, covering the markings along his fingers and wrist.

            Hesitantly, I wiped my dampening hands on the Chicago Bears jersey I was wearing and sat down on the opposite end of the couch. For a moment, I wondered if Death was hurt that I hadn't sat right next to him by the way he turned his head towards the fireplace, hiding his expression from me.

            "You shouldn't smoke or drink, Faith," he told me pretty dryly, "it's bad for you. Makes you smell bad. Tastes bad, too. Now that I've stated said that, I really regret throwing that pack of cigarettes into the fireplace."

            Before I could stop myself, I threw a hand over my mouth and started uncontrollably laughing.

            Death turned his angular face towards me, frowning at me and watching me laugh with an odd look, before the corners of his mouth lifted slightly and he looked down at the space in between us. He swiftly showed me his profile. "I'm happy you find enjoyment out of my misery."

            "I guess I'm a lot like you that way." Curling my legs up onto the couch, I faced him with a smile still on my lips, leaning my head against the back of the soft couch. "You're a selfish bastard, Death," I blurted. "You let me watch all of what between you and Tiara. You wanted me to see her touch you. The amount of arrogance you have is unbelievable."

            "Don't tell sober Death, but I secretly love it when you get pissy and jealous like this. It makes me hot all over the place. But there's one particular place I really get hot. Do you want to know where that place is?" At that, he started to slowly undo his belt.

            "Don't start this, Death," I grit out, staring to get up, "stop playing your stupid games with me--!"

             Death threw out his right leg, pinning me down to the couch like one of those roller coaster bars that drops down and locks into place along your lap. "Oops, looks like you have to watch me play my games," he slurred out. Death leaned back on the couch then, lifting his shirt up slightly with his hand and slowly caressing his stomach, lifting his shirt up higher and higher.

            I tore my face away, blushing furiously as if I was watching something I wasn't allowed to. "God help me," I murmured. What was he doing to me?

            "Did you enjoy how I was touching Tiara?" Death wondered, his calf pressing hard into my stomach as I tried to get up. "How she was touching me?"

            I covered my face with my hands. "No," I whispered, shaking my head.

            "Tell me the truth, Faith."

            "I am."

            "Did you wish that she was you?"

            Now I was blinking back years. "No," I hissed out.

            "Then why couldn't you look away?" he pressed, voice roughening. "Tell me. Why you. Couldn't look. Away."

            My cheeks were burning like liquid fire. "I don't know, Death."

            "You were so jealous."

            I grit my teeth, pulling my head into my chest and covering my flushed face further. Why was he torturing me like this?

            "You were watching what she was doing to me, but you never stopped her. You watched."

            I frantically pulled at his leg. "Let me go! Why are you doing this?! Just let me go, Death!"

            "Do you have any idea how incredibly sexy you are?" My mouth gaped underneath my hands. Had I heard that right? "You're so curvy, voluptuous, and freaking mouth watering."

            "I bet you thought that when I was wearing a princess dress and I was eight years old!" I shouted at him, tears spilling from my eyes. "I bet you thought that all of those times that you called me ugly, and made me feel worthless." I slumped against the couch and instantly his leg let up my stomach. "Give me a break. Give me a damn break."

            "Look at me," Death demanded, still locking me in place on the couch, "look at me, Faith!" His eyes were glowing a vibrant, neon green. "You're not my daughter. You never will be. And if you were, I wouldn't have a collection of your panties in my walk in closet."

            "I knew it! I knew you had them in there! That's why it's locked!"

            "You were going through my things? Pookie-bear.... I know you're obsessed with me, but please, leave my clothes alone. I'll start to think you have a problem or something."

            "Gah!" I reached out to try and claw at his face but his leg was in the way. I then started to dig at his pants like a wild animal, earning a foot to the face, pinning me down into the arm rest of the couch as Death barked out laughter. "I hate you and your stupid combat boots and your stupid pants and your stupid everything!" I roared, "stupid!"

            Suddenly Death removed his leg from my stomach.

            "AGH!" I immediately leaped up and tried to pounce on him, but he intercepted my attack by slamming his shoulder into my chest and knocking me to the ground, straddling me and pinning my upper arms to the ground.

            "Pooh-bear... I think we need couples therapy. Three seconds..."

            "What?! We're doing the bet?! If you don't turn over right now, I'm burning all of my left over panties!" Death flipped us over so fast that my head spun. "I think you need to be in an asylum! How dare you bring Tiara into this house when I'm here! How dare you! I helped you go to sleep and your sleep-self gave me access to your dreams, there was no reason to be spiteful towards me, you inconsiderate bastard! Nine seconds!!"

            "Way too drunk to follow what you just said. All I heard was sleep and spiteful. So I'm just going to tease you while you learn your lesson in trying to attack me, naughty little reaper." Death stuck his tongue out at me, flicking the tip of it inches from my mouth. I snapped at his tongue with my teeth like a wild animal, but he moved away in the nick of time and managed to get me on my back, sprawling on top of me like a lazy cat.

            "Naught little reaper?! I'm going to rip your intestines out and make you eat them!" I shrieked, "and I'm going to spit in your eyes! Then we'll see who's the naughty little reaper!"

             "Still you." Death groaned above me, pushing my cheek into the carpet before I could hack a loogy at him. "Do you mind whispering that last thing you said really seductively in my ear? Preferably while I'm naked? Seven seconds."

            "Then I'm going to take a meat grinder and put your stupid little smirking face into it! And-and then I'm going to throw you in a pool of guppies!"

            "Guppies?"

            I slammed my knee into his groin, making his marked, angular face and stubbly jaw momentarily go purple, then shoved him off of me, straddling his wide chest.

            "I need to put an iron shield down there," he sputtered, catching his breath.

            "I meant sharks! Sharks, damn it!"

            "Can't wait." Suddenly losing that playful look, Death lifted his face to my shoulder and kissed it, then continued to slowly kiss across my collar bone to the other side of my neck.

             His lips felt like fresh lava rocks being placed on my skin, and I instinctively began arching towards them. Now we were both sitting up and I was in his lap, letting him caress my skin with his lips.

            "Who's winning right now?" I murmured, starting to nibble on his neck and yank at the skin with his teeth until he hissed.

            "I don't care, I already pinned you to the couch for 15 seconds with my leg, I just wanted an excuse to get on top of you," he confessed, clearly trying to give me a nasty hickey on my neck.

            "You conniving...jerk!" I pulled away from drunk Death, gripping the sides of his face in my hands. I took in his sharp, angular features, branchy black markings, the dark stubble along his jaw and around his pump, soft lips. He needed someone to care for him, I realized. Death had a tortured soul, and he didn't need someone to tell all of his problems to. At least, at that moment. He needed someone to keep telling them that they cared, and to never give up on him no matter how much he denied their affection.

             It was then that I was starting to believe that no matter what obstacles or walls that Death threw in front of himself, I was the one that had to care for him. I fell deeply into those enticing, exotic green eyes that told a story so troubling and scarring.

             I forgot what the hell I was mad at him for.

            I wrapped my arms around his neck and landed a hard kiss on his mouth. As my lips moved against his and it took him a  actually kiss me back, I was welcomed by the exhilarating sensation that kissing Death right then and there had been the surprise attack that he had never expected.

            His stubble scrapped like little thorns against my skin, which I definitely didn't mind, and made my lips start to swell and turn numb the rougher our kisses became. As my hands wondered in his thick, soft fohawk, Death's hands gripped the back of my thighs, pulling me close to him. Suddenly, he started to get up with me in his arms and I pressed my hands firmly against his chest to pinned him down on the floor, flipping my long hair over my shoulder and, letting out a loud, extremely fake moan.

            Got you now, bitch.

            I traced the markings along his skin with my tongue, then pried and bit at his mouth until he finally gave me access to his tongue with a low chuckle. Our tongues battled at each other at first as my hands caressed each silky strand of hair on his head, until finally, we kissed like we were dancing in slow, smooth fluid motions and I felt my entire body shiver with delight. Death had relaxed greatly against me, definitely enjoying my newfound skills and confidence.

            After what seemed like hours, I pulled away from him, grinning at how stunned he looked."That was at least ten minutes. I'll let it be a tie. You owe me a day out of this freaking dark-ass bat cave," I said, giving his cheek a little slap and sashaying out of the room like I owned the place.

            As I was about to close Death's bedroom door, I heard him let out a animalistic growl from the other room. "Don't get too comfortable in my bed, sweetheart! You're training your ass off tomorrow! We only tied because I'm drunk and you're not wearing any pants! You owe me a lap dance, cupcake! And it's going to be as long as I want it!!"

            "That's what she said, Blanky!" I shouted back, then slammed the door, pressing myself against the back of it and smiling like a mad woman.

            Maybe my life was slowly starting to get better. Whether that was a good thing or bad thing, I was unsure.

           ******

EH. You know what I usually put down here lol. Please vote/comment for this chapter and the other chapters if you enjoyed! I'll probs be putting this into the Watty Awards! :)

<3