AUTHOR: Beware the wrath of The Corruptor
RATING: G (possibly PG for implied situations. Heh)
CHARACTERS / PAIRING: R/T :rolleyes:
SUMMARY: A nature walk gone awry.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Possibly one of my shortest fics ever. No beginning. No end. Finito. Do not beg for more, not that you will.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine blah blah blah.

"What a stupid idea."

It was the third time she had muttered the sentiment since she had gotten disgusted enough with her group to part ways. Disgusted enough to start hiking along her own path, a few yards removed from her assigned partners. She had been careful -- almost to the point of paranoia -- to keep them in the edge of her peripheral vision, but a patch of strange flowers and an impressive looking bird's nest had caught her attention and her roaming feet. To her dismay, when she had turned back to check on her group a few minutes later, she discovered she had completely lost sight of them.

"What happened to nice cultural field trips to the museum or art gallery? Whoever heard of a stupid nature walk?" she groused, miserably. She headed in the general direction she thought she was supposed to go. At times, the distant flitter of voices prompted her. Other times, she picked her way confusedly through the brush. If she were brave enough to admit it, she would have ventured to say she was lost. Only she stubbornly refused to believe so.

"Figures the one time my mind wanders is when someone says something important. Like what we should do if we get split up. Or..." She snapped her mouth shut, firmly, refusing to voice the word "lost" out loud. Grumbling, she surged ahead through a thick bramble of branches and foliage. Dead leaves and dry twigs crackled under her feet. She glanced at her watch, cursing its lack of a compass and fancy gadgets, before helplessly noting that she had been wandering aimlessly for the past ten minutes. Not terribly long, considering, but it felt more like ten years. She ducked under a low hanging tree branch, and walked smack into the question she dreaded the most.

"Lost, are we?"

Startled, her hand clutched at her chest as she twirled on her heels to see who had either been gracious enough to rescue her, or stupid enough to follow her into her predicament.

"You..." she started, an accusatory tone in her voice. If she had been on the verge of finally admitting she was indeed lost, the feeling had evaporated upon seeing her walking companion. There was no way she was going to admit to being lost with him.

Then seeing that he was waiting for a response to his question, she turned her back to him, huffing as she scrambled over a fallen tree trunk. "I'm not lost," she replied, petulantly.

He chuckled, the infuriating smirk plastered across his full lips. "It's not a sin, you know. You can admit it."

She wanted to strangle him. And in such an isolated, miserable place, she was certain no one would be able to hold her responsible. She could even formulate an alibi if held accountable: The birds talked me into doing it. "What about you?" she sneered, giving him the satisfaction of turning around to face him once again, the width of the fallen tree separating them.

He glanced around, confidently. "I'm taking the scenic route."

She rolled her eyes. "Well... Have fun," she intoned, flatly. She took a few steps away, careful not to get snagged by errant tree branches. Dry brittle leaves clung to her sweater; pesky flies flew circles around her head; and she felt hot and dirty. While she brushed disdainfully at her clothes, trying to rid herself of leaves and bugs, he appeared charmingly impeccable. Observing him so nonchalantly oblivious to their surroundings irritated her, and her feelings at the moment could have been adequately summed up in one word. She was peeved.

He hopped over the tree trunk and gracefully deposited himself by her side. "Want company? I know this really quiet place..." He lowered his voice seductively.

She couldn't be sure if it was his proximity or a sudden drop in temperature that brought the goose bumps to her arms. Instead of dwelling on it, she gave a humorless laugh, glancing around them. "Don't be ridiculous. There's no one around here."

He was delightfully taken aback. "So does this mean..." He leaned in, hoping to steal a kiss, but she quickly maneuvered through a thicket of branches. Stumbling, he caught himself just in time, avoiding the smack of a dislodged branch. "You don't have to play hard to get, you know," he called out, jogging to catch up. "If you're lost, you might as well enjoy the quiet and solitude with a willing partner."

She suddenly turned on him, glaring, but her almost hopeless situation had elicited an inexplicable fickleness in her. The next second, she beamed, infusing her voice with sugary sweetness. "Tristan, fine. You want me to admit it? Okay. I'm lost. Now... can you lead me out of here?"

His grin of triumph soon gave way to a fallen face. It lasted briefly, but she had seen it before he could recover. In the fading afternoon sun, she was growing more anxious. He hadn't said so much, but she guessed that he had impulsively followed her into the woods, intent on another opportunity to make her life miserable. And that despite the constant confident grin, he was as hopelessly lost as she was. Beaming, he gestured vaguely in the direction she had been heading in.

"It's... that way." His voice did not hold the same conviction the glow of his face assumed.

She rolled her eyes again and sighed dramatically. "And here I thought you were going to be my savior," she remarked, dryly.

His grin vanished as soon as she turned her back. He hurried to keep up. "What's the rush?"

"I want to go home. I'm cold. I'm hungry. I'm dirty," she complained.

"Playing in the dirt can be fun."

But she was certain he wasn't referring to making mud cakes. Holding back a branch, she ducked under it. His innuendoes were beginning to irk her. "What are you doing?" she asked, tiredly.

"Told you. Took the scenic route," he answered defensively. He wasn't nearly as proficient in avoiding the branches, and the self-assured demeanor slipped for a second as he swatted crossly at the same offending tree branch.

She was surprised to hear him upset. "You were following me," she accused, not breaking her stride.

"I wasn't!"

"You thought you'd get me alone and then take advantage of me," she continued, acidly.

"I wasn't going to..." His voice faltered and he stopped moving, watching her continue on her way as she stumbled through the bushes, groaning about "absurd" this and "ridiculous" that. At any other time, her tirade would have made him chuckle, but he had suddenly become aware that his ridiculous notion of isolating her away from the others was in fact turning into an absurd misstep.

She paused when she realized he was no longer beside her or immediately behind her. "Then you didn't follow me?" she asked, thinking maybe she had been wrong after all. Hoping she had been wrong at least once when it concerned him.

Hesitation. "Okay. I did follow."

She groaned loudly, then continued through another patch of dead tree branches. Hoping was apparently a futile gesture when it came to Tristan. "Why?" She paused to get her bearings, wondering if she would ever find her way out or if a real savior would materialize to rescue her.

"I..." Reluctance. She was moving farther away, and it didn't appear as if she would stop. With a distant voice, so soft he was sure she wouldn't be able to hear, he answered her. "I wanted to make sure you didn't get lost."

Rory came to an abrupt stop, turning slowly on her heels to allow him to see the look of disbelief etched on her face. He was still standing where she had left him, yards away. She supposed the wry look of irony on his face should have upset her, driving her into another one of her acerbic rants against him, but for no sane or logical reason, she burst into laughter instead.

"What?" he asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion, even as an amused smile threatened to break out on his face.

Exhausted, Rory fell and plopped down on a tree stump. "You're an absolute genius." There was no malice in her voice, merely amusement.

Shrugging, he cautiously sat down besides her, giving her a playful nudge that she did not seem to mind. "You got lost first," he reminded.

"I did not..." Her voice trailed off, ending in a groan. It was useless to argue the point. "You've never been a boy scout, have you," she admonished, lightly.

"I have a uniform, a lighter, and I can tie a knot. Why do I need to be a Boy Scout?"

She rolled her eyes. "If you have a compass or a cell phone, I'll lower myself to kiss you."

His grin broadened. "Really?"

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Yes. But only because I know you don't."

He sighed, defeated. "They’re going on my Christmas list." He glanced up at the sky, then at his watch before standing up. "Let's go. We'll call it a truce for now. When we get out of here, we can pretend I still want to get into your pants, and you can pretend to still hate my guts." He offered a hand.

She stared at it, brow arched smartly and the corner of her lips quirked into an ironic smile. "Who says it'll be pretend?" She took the proffered hand anyway.

Tristan gave her a minute to dust herself off. He didn’t even bother to disguise the fact that he was blatantly admiring her figure. For Rory’s part, she merely threw him a disgusted look – one that was tinged with wry amusement that, even under these circumstances, he could still behave as a stereotypical hormonal teenage boy. When she was ready, he led the way, surprising her with the considerate manner in which he pointed out certain areas for Rory to take care of or avoid. They continued in this companionable mode for a few more minutes.

Without warning, he reached out and grabbed her arm, tugging her to a complete stop. She froze at the contact, ears perking up as he surveyed their immediate area. Before she could ask what he was doing, he silenced her with a gentle finger on her lips.

There it was. She knew what had made him stop. There. In the distance, weak but bored shouting punctuated the silence around them. She couldn’t see anyone, but the faint calls made her spirit rise. So the cavalry had come out searching for them after all.

“That way,” she gestured, frantically, just as Tristan simultaneously pointed in another direction. The reverberations in the densely populated woods scattered the echoes, making it impossible to pinpoint the exact origin of the calls. She ignored him. “This way,” she emphasized, already on the move, even as he tried to call her back. She picked up the pace, expertly dodging low hanging tree branches and twigs as Tristan labored behind her, breathless. The risk of being found lost in the woods alone with Tristan was soon lost to the thoughts of just getting out of there. She could deal with the consequences and the inevitable rumors later. She sped up.

The crash came only seconds before the deafening silence. Everything had come to a standstill.

“Rory?” Tristan’s hesitant and anxious voice cut through the silence.

Rory replied with a low moan. In her haste, she hadn’t seen where she was going, accidentally dropping off a short decline, and landing with her knees scrapping against the rough bark of a fallen tree trunk. Dead leaves were scattered throughout her hair and small twigs poked through her sweater, pelting her sensitive flesh. She was a mess.

Tristan’s head popped over the edge of the tiny hill. His initial reaction of concern was quickly replaced by laughter at how ridiculous she looked. When she finally glared at him, the new resolute and purposeful line of his lips wisely cut off his hearty laughter. He dropped over the edge, landing neatly on his feet. Giving her a tilted grin, a mixture of triumphant macho pride and chastened embarrassment, his eyes flickered about in an assessment of her situation. All his fears of broken bones and gaping flesh wounds banished, he turned his attention back to the pitiful looking girl in front of him. The fact that she was scowling at him was also not lost on him.

Thoroughly repentant for taking her predicament as a means to entertain himself, his amused smirk fell to reveal genuine alarm. Seeing him worried managed to soften her countenance from a disapproving glower to one of reassurance. She lifted her eyes heavenward, thankful that she was not seriously hurt. The idea of needing Tristan to carry her out of the woods was not an idea she wanted to dwell on.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice unable to mask his concern.

She gave a flippant nod of her head. “Yes, but I swear, if you laugh…” She didn’t need to finish her warning. He crouched down before her, as if ready to help her up. Only he held his position, unmoving, and she turned away, pretending to be occupied by dusting herself off. Her hands flitted aimlessly over her clothes in a distracted pantomime of purposefulness. Staring at nonexistent patches of dirt on her sweater relieved her from having to analyze the indecipherable expression of gentleness that he had unconsciously turned towards her in his moment of contemplation.

His hand reached for her. “You have a…” Slowly, and ever so carefully, his hand ran through her tangled hair, pausing only to linger for a long second, before he moved his hand in front of her eyes. In his grasp was a decorative twig.

She didn’t realize she had been holding her breath. “Th-thanks, I think.” The words tripped off her tongue, and she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be relieved or disappointed.

He didn’t respond, eyes too busy staring at her knee. Blushing despite herself, she found her own eyes gravitating to her exposed body part. And realized why he was staring with a worried frown. Her pants had been ripped at the right knee, a huge gash cutting into her delicate flesh from having scraped roughly against the tree bark during her tumble. The edges of the ripped cloth were already stained with streaks of blood. He knelt down and lifted her knee for closer inspection. She winced at the movement, but did not resist him.

When he looked up, his eyes shone with relief. “It’s just a scrape, but you’ll need to put something on it.”

“No bones protruding out?” she asked, facetiously, noting that he had yet to release her leg.

“No, thank God. For a minute, I thought I was going to have to carry you out of here,” he deadpanned, which made him a target of a foot long twig. He dodged it easily, managing to keep his hands on her slim leg. He chuckled, even as she directed a death glare at him. “Think you can walk on it?” He raised a brow, teasingly.

“I don’t know,” she replied, sarcastically. “If someone would let go of it, I’ll be able to stand up and test it.”

He didn’t move. “Does it hurt?” There was a mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes.

“Only if you keep staring at it,” she remarked, pointedly, aware that having his eyes devour her naked skin, even bruised and bloodied, embarrassed her profusely.

“Don’t worry. Tristan will make it all better,” he assured, leaning down towards her.

Her breath caught in the back of her throat. Unconsciously, she tried to scoot away from him, but was unable to do so. His hands were lightly but firmly grasping her injured leg, searing puddles of warmth through the thin material. If he moved his hands just a little in the wrong direction, she was doomed.

“I’d prefer it if Tristan just helped me up,” she pronounced, sardonically. With a flourish of her hand, she held it out invitingly to him, hoping he’d let go of her leg to accept it and help her to her feet. It was the only time she’d willingly offer herself to him. When he only met her eyes with an amused twinkle, she groaned and attempted to stand herself. The movement twisted her knee slightly, aggravating the wound, and she yelped in disgust as she fell back onto the ground.

“If you’d just wait a minute,” he cut off her moan, “I told you I’d make it feel better.” His voice had gotten exponentially lower as he soothed her. And for some reason, his head had moved inches closer to her.

She was aware of a deep rhythmic noise, but couldn’t determine whether it was the throbbing pain of her knee or the rapid palpitations of her heart that was beating in her ear. “What are you going to do?” she hissed through clenched teeth, though the question actually came out in a weakened whimper.

His eyes locked onto hers, and she found it hard to look away. Even as his head inched ever so slowly towards her. “Oh… just…” Eyes never leaving hers, his lips lowered at an excruciatingly slow pace, instinctively seeking out the swollen, silky flesh. “…this…”

His whisper ended as soon as his soft lips made contact with the equally soft skin exposed by the rip in her pants. A wave of tingles originating in her knee spread throughout her traitorous body. In a gesture that could have been almost maternal -- if it hadn’t amazingly taken her breath away -- Tristan deposited a kiss right above the scrape on her knee. His lips were gentle, barely leaving an impression on the sensitive area, as they brushed across the skin in a feathery sigh of a loving caress.

When he was done, he edged away from her knee, hovering centimeters away. Eyes still on hers, his lips curved into a slightly pleased smile that both infuriated her and melted her. Especially after his actions just seconds before. Her whole body had gone numb from the gesture, and she doubted an immediate recovery would be possible. However, her ears -- the turbulent flow of blood rushing through them notwithstanding -- were fine, and she found herself waiting with baited breath for his next tantalizing comment. She didn’t have to wait long. When he finally spoke, his breath tickled teasingly over the sensitized area of naked flesh.

“Better?”