(25 -- Eyelashes)
Word Count: 334
Summary: He needed to control his urges. Mostly because they were bad, unnatural urges to indulge. He really needed to control them.
A/N: Um...Stein's crazy thoughts...Swear words...That kind of thing.
It was a blithering insane thought.
A thought he needed to get control over.
"Is there a problem, ?" She asked innocently, with a touchy of cloying annoyance that made his thought all the harder to stomach. He knew she wasn't what she pretended and that only made it harder for him to control his urges. Didn't she know? She had to know. She'd be a fool not to know. "Is there something wrong with my face?"
Everything he wanted to say. Every-fucking-thing.
He wanted to shove her onto a table, and he wanted to touch her, kiss her, but most of all, he wanted to pluck her soft eyelashes one by one from her eyelids. Oh, he was unbelievably sick. He needed help.
"Dr. Stein?" She asked again, coming closer, her eyelashes coming closer.
How the hell could he want her like a man wanted a woman, but wanted to tear her bit by bit, piece by piece? It didn't make sense. Those two things could not work together. They shouldn't work together.
Her hand lifted up to his forehead and rested there.
His fingers twitched.
Her eyes peered at him in confusion, "You don't seem ill. Is there something the matter? Perhaps, nausea?"
His hands twitched again.
"Dr. Stein?" Her tone went up a notch in worry.
Before he could do something he would regret he pushed her away, albeit too forcefully. He didn't really notice, and didn't really care. The blonde medic dropped to the floor and winced. Stein pushed the images, the urges, the desires as far back as he could make them go. "It's nothing." He muttered, his voice strained at the lie.
Her eyes stared up at him blankly, and for a second he thinks he glimpses something in them, something just as maddening and fucked up as he is.
Of course, he's only deluding himself. Nobody is as screwed as he is.