Michael had snapped out of his shock after the police had left with Agent Smith. She told them to get home and stay in for a few days while she works out the situation. Makes a case against the thugs that makes Michael out to be a hero and how it wouldn't be worth the backlash of deporting him.
The walk home was quiet. They walked hand and hand and the only words were, "No this way", because Michael was leading them but he still didn't know his way home and sometimes wanted to go down a wrong street. They went inside Sarah leading him to the couch and made him sit down. She turned on the TV and the DVR. A recorded episode of game of thrones began to play. He watched the screen for a few seconds, hearing the intro, but Michael's eyes followed Sarah as she walked to the kitchen. Sarah began to load the rice cooker and rifle through the fridge for some beef and veggies. She found the teriyaki sauce in the door and carried everything to the cutting board. She began to slice and cut the vegetables and beef, throwing them in a pan with some peanut oil and the sauce. She worked vigorously, she was so distracted with her task of the meal that she didn't hear Michael stand up, or walk into the kitchen. He maneuvered himself behind her. All she felt was his arms wrap around her waist and his cheek on her neck.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, that never should have happened. I shouldn't have let them take you." She could feel his heart quicken and his breathing slow, deep breaths. "I should have gotten you out of there faster, it was my fault."
Sarah turned and with a look of anger she slapped the dragon, hard. "No! Don't do that. Don't you do that. They did those things they beat you and they did that to me. You saved me. You are a hero. Don't think any different. You're my hero." Sarah took his face in her hands and stared into his dark brown eyes and he into her's. Michael could feel it in his stomach he wanted to kiss her, her beautiful face Sarah's face, her eye's. He was lost in them. He swallowed hard but didn't push forward he just held her and Sarah could feel it too, the pull of this strange unexplainable attraction. It was almost too much she did the only thing she could think of. She put her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest. He brought her into an embrace and pulled her tightly into him.
"I have to cook," She said not wanting to let him go. "Go sit down and then I'll help you get ready for bed. We will talk more in the morning, everything should be clearer tomorrow. Ok?" She didn't look at him she just talked to his chest.
"Ok."
They ate dinner making small talk but a distance began to form and they both were trying to close the gap. Neither wanted to talk about what was causing it. They continued to talk, trying to close the gap but it only seemed forced as the meat and veggies disappeared followed by the rice. Sarah rushed the dished to the sink, rinsing them off just as quickly as she cleared the table and returned to her seat. They talked for another few minutes about random things, but Michael suggested it was late. Maybe they should go to bed and talk in the morning, like she suggested. Sarah agreed.
"I think you should take a shower before bed or a bath to relax a little. I mean you are really dirty and everything and it can't hurt."
"Ya I think you're right, but you should probably do the same too, you can go first if you'd like?"
"No you first, I think you need to relax, I mean I can't imagine how sore you are after everything that happened." Michael didn't argue, he sighed and stood up quickly walking to the stairs. Sarah looked down at herself. She hadn't realized her cloths were such a mess. Her shirt had been covered in grime, and torn a little. Her hair definitely smelled of trash as well. She watched Michael as he made his way up the stairs and disappeared.
Michael sat in the shower for a few minutes, feeling the warm water run over his body. He breathed deep and began to rub his face and eyes in frustration. He couldn't believe what was happening to him. The awkwardness of what happened was driving Sarah and him apart. They had just started to get to know each other, and now this. He wanted to kill those men, but instead he just beat them, but it wasn't enough. The man that he burned, the man that hurt her, he wanted to kill him. He wanted to breath his fire on his face and burn him to nothing, unleash his real fury. He felt frustrated. Looking down at the small bench by the shower he sat down and began to rub his face hard. Trying to just feel normal again and then maybe he could talk to Sarah again. They could figure out what to do. He hoped.
"Michael?" He hadn't heard her come in but there she was, standing with a bowl and wash cloth. She had a towel wrapped around her chest to cover her bare body. "I thought you needed help washing your back, so." He swallowed hard and studied her. She had a slight thickness to her legs and a fullness to her chest that he had noticed last time they were in similar circumstance. The towel just seemed to accentuate her body's curves and he couldn't turn away from her form.
"Sure. I could, um, I need help." Sarah walked behind him and knelt down, admiring his wide back. The bandages were a flesh color and very obvious against his red scales. She took the cloth and began to rub him, she could see some slight discoloration of the bruises from the beating but he didn't seem to notice any pain or at least didn't let it show. She wrung out the washcloth, soaked it again and kept scrubbing making sure to not get to close to the bandages. She knew he might not feel the bruises but the gunshots would definitely hurt him. As she kept washing him the cloth began to turn red and so did the water with the last of the dried blood being washed away. Once she was finished Sarah stood up and moved in front of him. He watched her mesmerized with her movements, she placed the bowl on the shelf to the right of the shower and slowly peeled her towel off and hung it on a hook next to the sink. She could feel his eyes on her exploring her, but he didn't move he only averted his eyes and tried to remain some what decent. She looked at him over her shoulder from time to time as she washed her body and hair. The lather ran down her arms, rolled over her breasts, down her stomach and then down her shapely legs.
"Michael." Her voice sounded like silk to his ear and he couldn't help but look at her. "Could you wash my back please? I can't reach." He stood up, his towel still clinging to his waist. Grabbing a washcloth, he held it into the stream of water from the shower head. She didn't look at him as he reached in front of her, his arms wrapping around her but still giving her a wide berth, grabbing the liquid soap. He squeezed some soap onto his hand, strawberries, and he began to rub it onto her back, working it into a lather. Sarah didn't expect to feel his hand running over her skin and she liked it, his hands were so soft. When he changed to the washcloth and began to scrub her she felt a pang of disappointment that she wasn't feeling his soft skin on her's anymore. When he finished Sarah rinsed herself and turned off the water. She grabbed her towel and wrapped it around herself again. "Thank you." She didn't turn to look at him she headed for the door. She exited before he could respond.
"You're welcome."
