2046-11-28 Unforgettable

From X-Factor

Date Posted 2016/12/17
Location Micaela and Diego's Apartment - New York City
Participants Diego, Micaela
Summary Diego has some memory problems. Micaela has a temper.
DiDiego.jpg MiMicaela.jpg
In the echelon of the Montague Apartments, there is a certain expected modernity that defines them. Micaela & Diego's apartment isn't as swanky as some in the building, but it has distinctive marks of elegance in its diffused lighting, sharp metal kitchen bar with tall chairs, and modern technology built in throughout. A focal light composed of glittering glass hangs over the kitchen island/bar. It sparkles against the rich red accent wall that marks the main room of the apartment. The decorating is as bold as its occupants: a shield takes a place of pride over a gas fireplace, flanked by a pair of gold tails and ears--presumably from a bull. Little touches of Diego's matador career color the rooms, along with Micaela's preference for expensive furnishings and decorations that have a touch of the dramatic.

There is an unlikely delay as Diego stands in front of their apartment for a long moment, his tactical bag slung over his shoulder and his boots still licked with dust from an alternate universe. Brow furrowing, he fumbles with his keys as he pulls them out and unlocks the door to their New York City apartment. His dark eyes rake over the modern furniture and decor with a mix of familiarity and confusion, a continuing loss of words settled on his tongue since they rescued the Xavier kids.

Micaela has been a woman on a mission since they got back across the portal, dealing with debriefing and decontamination with poor grace and little patience--most of the latter used on Diego, who has been unusually quiet and lost-seeming since they got the kids back. She sneaks a worried glance at him, one of many today, as he fumbles with his keys and unlocks the door. For her part, she is less reticent about how she feels as she strides through the door with praise, dumping her bag haphazardly on the floor to be dealt with later. Her boots are next, left one after the other trailing from the door, as she starts stripping down.

Licking his lips and gently setting down his bag, Diego outwardly /stares/ at Micaela as she starts stripping down with hesitation. He breath audibly catches in his throat as swaths of skin are uncovered. Ahem. "This is... forward," he manages, bending down to untie his boot.

There is a loud thud as her gun-belt hits the surface of the coffee table where Micaela drops it. "What?" She asks, looking over her shoulder in a way that would be coquettish if she didn't look vaguely annoyed as she slides out of her jacket, armor already left in a pile in her wake. It's less easy to shimmy out of her pants in motion, so she at least has to stop before the hallway to step out of them.

"Que?" Diego blinks back at Micaela in surprise as she stares back at him looking vaguely annoyed. His fingers move in a blur that gracefully unties his boots and sets them neatly aside. "I mean to say... pleasant. But unexpected?" He clarifies, lapsing into Spanish to begin and finishing in English. His fingers slide down his buttons fluidly before tossing aside his coat and shirt.

Micaela snorts a laugh, kicking her pants off and nearly into the pile of her jacket. "{I am not sure anything is going to be /pleasant/ until I get a shower,}" she counters with easy, if imperfect, Spanish. This is probably the reason for the across the apartment striptease. Her tanktop is pulled over her head with a muffled curse, revealing a necklace with rings hanging off or it and her tattoo along with even more skin.

Mouth visibly dropping at Micaela's easy, imperfect, but fluid Spanish, Diego's eyes wide as she pulls away her tanktop. His dark eyes catch on the glittering rings around her neck only briefly, before the tattoo on her hip captures his attention and imagination. There is only the pause of a heartbeat before he is across the room, shirtless, with his hands sliding over the curve of his name on her hip. "{When did you get this?}" He demands with delight, pulling her close.

"Whoa!" Micaela is surprised when her path is interrupted by Diego suddenly being /right there/, his hands sliding over her hips. "HmmMm," she murmurs, tipping her head to the side. "Pleasant, but unexpected," she says, echoing his words back to him with a crooked smile. It's only then that she looks down and see what he is referring to. Some of the spark goes out of her eyes, replaced by worry. "You don't remember? It was after one of your fans got too close...I wanted to mark you as mine. It was only fair I did the same..."

The wide plane of his palms are hot as they slide over the curve of her hips, fingertips slipping beneath the edges of her underwear. One follows the path of the letters, his dark eyes fixed on her features. Diego's brows furrow and then lift as Micaela explains - visibly stuttering over the thought. "I - yes. Of course," he says uncertainly, hands shifting against her skin as if he is about to pull away. "And I.... did the same?" The tattoo. He glances down at himself looking for it.

Well, she /was/ fixated on getting a shower. Now she's getting other ideas, despite their mutual level of post-mission grubbiness. Micaela bites her lip as Diego's fingertips slip under the band of her underwear...but the furrow of confusion on his features actually keeps her focused more on him than on herself. Gently, she lifts a hand and places it on his cheek. Hey. "Yes, you did." Even with her concern, she can't help but smile sharp and possessively as she reminds him, "You need a mirror to see where I signed you..."

It is not his sexy pout, certainly. That furrowing lingers even as he tries to flash her a rakish smile which falls short of the mark. Diego's fingertips tapping lightly as if to dot the end of his name at the curve of Micaela's hip. His gaze is slowly drawn back to her features as she places a hand on his cheek, blinking back at her. Hey. "Si?" His eyes widen a little, a grin touching his lips. "We moved rather fast. Did we not? I did not know you spoke Spanish." Leaning in, he lightly kisses her lips. "It is beautiful on you."

The tattoo on her hip is a touch cleaner than the pen strokes he put there years ago, in the way of tattoos, but it is unmistakably Diego's signature. "That's what my mother said, but I think she was just annoyed I was in Spain with a bullfighter to begin wi-" She cuts off when he kisses her, but after she just stares at Diego. One hand remains on his cheek, the other fiddles with the rings on her necklace. "You...taught me Spanish. Some, anyway."

Lips breaking away with a soft pop, Diego takes a step back in shock. "We went to Spain? We had only just begun..." Shaking his head, he lifts a hand to run it through the dark waves of his hair. Then he winces. This is not the best shape his hair has been in. "Ah. Si. Si. I thought... we had just started dating. But not. Of course. I asked you..."

This is not the best shape either of them have been in, although they've certainly been worse. Well, mostly Micaela has been worse. This is not the best she's looked, but at least it's mostly /dirty/ and not /bleeding/. Her shoulder is sporting some spectacular looking bruising, but bruising is at least all it is. "You asked me?" She prompts, fingertips softly tracing the curve of his cheek.

"I asked you..." Diego pauses, struggling to fit the pieces of his mind in place. His long lashes fall low on his cheeks as he takes a shuddering breath at the touch of her fingers. "I asked you. After X-Factor was closed." A hint of pain touches his expression as if the wound is fresh. "Were we not just on a mission for them? What are these?" He asks, dark eyes blinking open to play with the wedding rings at her neck.

"Yes..." Micaela speaks slowly, though is not the tone one uses when condescending at someone stupid. She speaks with lingering concern, drawing out the one word a little longer than normal. She does seem a little relieved, briefly, for his memory. Then... "No, we were..." She doesn't finish the sentence. Instead, she carefully picks up the rings, holding them so he can see, looking for recognition before she undoes the necklace and slides them back on her finger. Where they belong.

"We were? Yes. Si. That is as I..." Diego trails off, watching Micaela reach for the rings around her neck and settle them on her finger. His hands drop away from her skin in shock. "You got married? When?!"

Like fuel on a fire, Diego's apparent shock sets Micaela off. She is a little shocked herself at his reaction at first, mouth parting to hang slightly open as she stares at him. Then her back stiffens, air heating up around them. "I got married to /you/, you dummy!" She snaps, brows pinching together with a little hurt in her expression. How could he not remember /that/?

"Me?" Caught well and truly at a loss, Diego stares at her ring in shock and then down at his own hands. "You married me?" His voice is rough with disbelief as he clutches at the medal around his neck, fingers tightening to find a ring there. Then, comprehension touches his features as he speeds forward uncaring for the heat to draw her near. "{You married me,}" he whispers lowly, voice dipping with a sensual husk as he places a kiss on her shoulder.

"Yes, I married you!" Micaela shouts, punching Diego in the chest for emphasis. It isn't a hard enough blow to actually hurt, just to express her irritation. "Are you fucking kidding me? What did you think, I just brought you here for fun, while I-" Her rant breaks off as he speedily draws her close again, leaving her momentarily breathless in shock. "What-" It takes her a longer moment to catch up with the emotional whiplash. Her irritation lingers, even so. "{Yes,}" she growls, "{You're mine.}"

Diego yelps at the impact of her punch, jumping in surprise more than in pain. Lifting a hand, he rubs his bare and scarred pectoral, continuing to watch her with wide eyes. His staring isn't all in confusion, some of it is in awe and some of it is in desire as a flush reddens her cheeks and her eyes sparkle with fury. It is that desire, that awe, that love, that draws him close again with his hands sliding possessively along the curve of her back. Lips grazing over the curve of her neck in a slow sweep, he drops another kiss to the junction of it and her shoulder. "{I am. Always,}" he breathes, nipping the skin lightly. "{I am sorry, Mia Amor. For a moment... for a time I thought.}" Shaking his head, he buries his face in her skin.

Micaela growls low in her throat, a mixture of her lingering anger, but also desire, as his hands slide along her back. Her touch isn't quite as kind, dragging her nails along his neck and shoulder. Desire may be winning out as he drops a kiss to her neck, but she's still annoyed, sounding not unlike an aggravated cat, all growls and claws. Softness comes in the form of a sigh, breathed over his skin as she pulls him in for a close, tight hugs that gives away some of the desperation in her quickly beating heart. "{I am worried...what you are thinking.}"

An answering note rumbles in the back of Diego's throat, muscles shifting as nails bite into his bronzed skin. His teeth grind against her neck a little more fiercely before they are replaced with a delicate kiss. Micaela's isn't the only heart to race in her breast, the throbbing of his almost felt through the bases of his fingertips. Pulling her tight against him, his hands clutch fearfully at her back. "{I don't... I don't know,}" he admits, voice trembling. "{I had thought. For a time we were just newly dating. But of course we are married. I do not understand...}"

A heavy huff of breath answers the grind of his teeth, her own clenching as she holds on tightly to him, nails digging into skin once more. Micaela tries to whisper something soothing into his ear, but the words don't come. She can only say as much through a gesture, the whisper of her lips along the skin of his neck before she pulls back. "They fucked with your head," she snaps, too angry again to speak Spanish. "I'm going to kill them." Micaela, no. She moves like she's actually going to do that, despite the impossibility of it.

Humming softly at the pressure of her lips, Diego whines a little as she pulls back and lifts his head at the crack of her anger. "My... head?" He says slowly, brow furrowing. "I do not... I do not remember, Mia Amor. But they are gone. Across the portal."

"I will rip that portal fucking open again!" Micaela shouts, attempting to storm across the room. Of course, even she knows this is impossible, even ridiculous. She sighs heavily and instead of escaping Diego, she turns around and throws her arms around his neck. The bite of her nails is a little less harsh raking through his hair. "I know," she whispers, suddenly quieter. "I know you don't remember."

Diego's arms loosen and then firm around her to stop her from stomping around the room, his hands pressing lightly against her stomach. No. Under the wealth of her anger, he is silent with his shoulders hunching and his usually amiable manner shaken. A quiet breath of relief escapes him as she wraps her arms around him, fingers sliding into his hair. "Some things..." He begins. "It is as if they are scrambled. I do not know what happened in that hall... I really thought... we were only newly together."

He isn't the only one shaken, though Micaela shows it in different ways. It's written in the way she drops to silence after she wraps her arms around him again after shouting. And she stays silent for a long moment after he speaks again. "I'm almost sorry I informed you otherwise," she begins with a laugh that sounds like a hiccup. "I could have broken you in all over again." It's a comment that lacks the spice it might otherwise have had, if the circumstances were different. If she weren't so worried about what he remembers. Or not.

"How about..." Diego suggests, nuzzling his cheek against hers. "You give it a try after we shower?" The smile he offers is tenuous, still marred by uncertainty even in her arms. "And you can remind me about this wonderful woman that I am so lucky to have married." It is a quiet offering of peace, even as he stands uncertain of how long they have been married.

Micaela pulls away just enough so she can look Diego in the eyes, her arms sliding from around his neck so she can hold his face between her hands. Her expression is sharp and fierce, but only to cover the softness of worry beneath. "Anything you want," she promises, stroking a thumb along his cheek. "I'm here." She is still for a moment, caught in a rare moment of hesitation, before she stands up on her toes to kiss him, sealing such a promise.

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