Work Text:
"You make me feel...you make me feel," she said quietly, fiercely, a tremble on her lip and bottle clutched so tight she swears it'll shatter in her hands, "and I don't like it. I want it to stop."
He looks at her, quiet and foreboding as he's always been, thumbs tucked in his sash as they always are, hat dipped down below his eyes like it always is. She hates when he looks at her that way.
Quiet. Hungry. Carnal.
She hates when her heart races and leaps in her throat when he tilts his hat just so, hates when her knees quiver with every step his take. Ever so languid ― smug, even ― towards her like they're the only two in the damn room. She hates how dizzy he makes her when his fingers lace through her sash, tugs her close enough she can see the hazel in his dark eyes and smell the lingering cigar smoke on his breath.
She hates how it makes her feel.
Weak. Vulnerable. Desired.
She hates it.
And yet...
She never wants it to stop.
"Everly..."
She can't bear to look at him.
I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.
Rough fingers hook under her chin, tilting just so his lips are a moments away from hers she can taste the whiskey on his breath and inhale the lingering fumes of cigars. It leaves her dizzy and shaken and drunk on only the feeling of him.
"Johnny...," she whispers. A warning. A plea. A prayer on the tip of her tongue all he has to do is reach out and taste it.
The thought thrills and scares her.
Something shifts behind his eyes, darker as they flutter down to her lips, her nose, her brow before they return to her own.
"What do I make you feel?" He whispers the words into her mouth, her head swimming when his fingers hook into her sash, pulling her so close her hips knock into his, and she swears her heart's stopped beating right in her chest.
I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.
I love you.
The bottle slips from her hands.
"I look at you, and I just love you," the confession is so small, so quiet, hardly above a whisper. A mere note hanging on the end of a song he can hear that damn lunger playing just a few saloons down.
He hears it. He hears it and hangs on to every word.
"I love you, Johnny. And it terrifies me. It terrifies me what I would do for you."