As requested by Filipinagirl04. Your message made me smile

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Dread knots in my stomach as I look at Dimitri perched on the sofa opposite me. His arms are folded, his shoulders tense. He's closed himself off from me, like a wall of ice. And despite the guilt I have for doing this, for hurting him, for starting down this whole ridiculous mess of a path, it hurts to see him so separate. But it also just plain hurts.

I know that he's waiting for me to speak, and it exhausts me. I should have controlled this better, I should have spoken to him before running off. For a moment I allow myself to imagine how I would feel had the roles been reversed. But my own pain prevents me from seeing clearly.

My heart contracts, cutting through my lethargy. As much as I hate it I need things to be okay again, and I owe him an explanation. Time to wade into this cesspool of a situation.

I figure it's good to put my best foot forward, to start with something neutral.

"I didn't handle this very well," I begin, staring at the crack between the couch cushions. I take a breath, force myself to look into his eyes, unfathomable. "I'm sorry."

His eyebrows twitch, and he nods. That mask of his is securely in place, and I suppress a twitch of irritation.

"I, uh, realized that I have an issue with something," I continue, trying to initiate the dialogue.

He closes his eyes for a second, and lets out a breath. "You don't say."

His icy demeanor hardly encourages me to continue, and I'm not entirely sure how, in any case. I cover my face with my hands, giving in to the impulse to hide from him. Gah, I'm so out of my depth. I've never felt so awkward around him.

There's a rustle and I feel the couch move as he shifts. His voice is a much needed breath of air, frigid though it may be.

"All I know is you ran out of here with no explanation and I don't know if I should take it personally or not."

The accusation in his voice makes me cringe internally, and I can't stop myself from adopting a pleading tone. "Can you please not be the scary guardian mentor for a second? It's really hard to take."

I feel like I'm sixteen again, with Jesse Zeklos retreating through the door beneath the disappointment in Dimitri's eyes.

An irritated sigh and a short pause, but then I feel his hand on my knee. "Come on Rose, look at me. Please."

I begin to thaw, steeling myself to meet his request. My eyes find his, and I see the hurt and confusion and anger that I've caused. Does he see the same in mine?

"It wasn't intentional," I say. It all comes out in a rush. "I'm sorry. I just...we were...and then..." I take a breath. "I couldn't stop thinking about your...past experience. And my lack thereof."

An awkward silence follows. Then, "What do you mean?"

Dammit, I thought I'd been clear. My face heats at the thought of having to explain.

"The other women. The ones you were with before me."

"Ah."

Oh, this is awkward. I want to leave the room, or flee the country. I want to understand why my head is doing this.

The ice is back: i can tell he's trying to not get irritated. But it still smarts for me. And I can't back down and leave the issue unresolved.

"I know it's not rational," I try to defend myself; explain myself, "but I didn't know how to deal with it. It was just so much, all of a sudden, and I needed to think and-"

"-Rose," he cuts in, halting my babbling. "Why didn't you just tell me this?"

He's frustrated, but his words spark my own frustration. I feel like he hasn't listened to me.

"I already said I didn't know what to do, and I already apologized for handling it badly. Cut me some slack."

He exhales in a huff through his nose. "Dammit Rose. You're just left me standing there, I didn't know what was happening."

"Well I didn't know either, and I've already apologized for not telling you! This is a learning curve for me. Can you please try to understand that I'm out of my depth?"

"Fine then, let's get into this. Why does my history upset you?"

I grimace, not wanting to speak when he's angry. But I have no choice.

"I don't know, it's like latent jealousy or something. Which doesn't make sense. But..." I wave my hand, trying to illustrate the point I can't articulate.

"So you're upset with me for having loved before you? I'm not going to apologise for that."

"No, I know, I'm not asking you to. I just kept imagining them...with you."

He pinches the bridge of his nose, as if to hide me from his sight. "So stop imagining! What, you think I think about them? That I'm busy making comparisons or some shit?"

An internal shudder goes through me.

"No, Dimitri, but it bothers me that you could if you wanted to. And it bothers me that I have no frame of reference."

The irritation seems to drain out of his face, as though he realizes how tightly wound I am. It leaves behind an expression of complete weariness.

"I really don't know when you think I've had the time to sleep with all these women. But this is different to anything I've had before."

I roll my eyes, but my heart skips a beat. "Please. Have you looked in the mirror? I bet you had them queueing up."

He snorts a laugh, then sighs.

That laugh is like a summer breeze, breaking through the frost that's formed a blanket over us.

"I'm not going to write you a list, though, if that's what you're after," he warns.

I try to quell the petty part of me that perks up at the thought. He's right; a list of names wouldn't do either of us any good. This is something I'm just going to have to move past.

"I think I just got scared," I admit in a small voice. It seems so inadequate out loud, hanging in the air between us.

"Oh Roza."

His arm wraps around my shoulders. We're both stiff at first, but then familiarity overcomes our reluctance. My head finds its rightful place on his chest, and his other arm rests in the curve of my waist.

"Are you okay?" he asks softly. I nod, using the motion to burrow closer to him.

"Are you okay?" I return.

"Yes." He kisses the top of my head.

I catch sight of the time. "It's late," I inform him.

"Yeah, it is."

"We should sleep."

He sits up a little, craning his neck to look at something behind me. Then a grin steals across his face. "I have a better idea."

My head falls to the cushions as he stands, and I emit a noise of complaint. Then I sit up too, just in time to see him emerge from the kitchen with a bottle.

"We may as well take the day off tomorrow," he says, flopping back down beside me. "I assume you're familiar with the game 'never have I ever'?"

"I am," I reply, as he cracks opens the lid. "But never have I ever played it with tequila."

I watch in amazement as he shoots me a wink and takes a swig, directly from the bottle.

"Never have I ever beheaded a strigoi."

"What? With all those marks, not one?"

"Nope," he laughs. "Drink."

I take a mouthful of tequila as instructed, and it burns on the way down.

"Hmm," I muse. "Never have I ever..." I trail off, and my eyes search the ceiling as though an idea is written there.

"What, you're trying to think of something you haven't done?" he teases.

"Shut up."

"I'm getting old here."

"And I'm trying to think!"

"Just go for the normal ones," he says with a smile. "Never have I ever kissed a girl or whatever."

"Well I'm not allowed to lie!"

"I should have known."

"Okay, wait I've got one. Never have I ever read a western."

He narrows his eyes, but drinks when I hand him the bottle.

He thinks for a moment, then, "Never have I ever eaten a...what are those things called? With the batter on a stick?"

"A corndog?"

"Yeah, that's the one. Never have I ever eaten a corndog."

I shake my head as I swallow the tequila. "You haven't lived."

He shrugs. "I don't see the appeal."

"Yeah well remind me to pop your corndog cherry sometime. Never have I ever slept in an igloo."

He rolls his eyes. "That's such a generalization."

"Maybe it is," I concede, "But have you?"

"... Yes."

I laugh as he drinks, and lean closer to him.

"Never have I ever dropped out of school," he declares.

"Technicality," I grumble. This tequila is hitting hard and fast.

"This is fun," he teases.

Oh, he wants fun?

"Okay then, if that's how you want to play. Never have I ever had a thing for my underage student."

He shoots me an indignant glare, but obligingly takes a sip. "Low blow."

"You started it."

"Fine. Never have I ever..." he trails off.

"Yes comrade?"

He shakes his head. "I'm not saying this out loud. Come here."

His breath is hot and tickles my ear as he whispers to me.

Oh. Wow.

But I don't pull back.

"You know what?" I reply, inches from his face. "Neither have I."

Our argument forgotten, the game becomes far more demonstrative than verbal, and we pick up where we left off.

Much later, through the fog of my unconscious, I feel his heavenly warm presence wriggle in closer to me.

"Roza." It's so soft and perfect, I'm not entirely sure he's not a dream. "Never have I ever loved anyone as much as I love you."

Author's Note

Thank you for reading! This fic is now complete, and was written in 3 drastically different times and headspaces, so I apologise for any inconsistencies. If you enjoyed this, or if you didn't and would like to tell me why, please drop me a review! I read every one, and it's so great to know I'm not just screaming into the void. Also, if you'd like to follow and favourite, please feel free. It's a good way to stay up to date with when I post (which is not often)

I also apologize for any mistakes, as this fic is unBeta'd

The VA universe and the characters therein are the sole intellectual property of Richelle Mead