A/N: Hello everyone! I'm finally back- after YEARS of inactivity- on my old-school account! Hallelujah =D Aaaaand I'm diving into the B10 fandom. (The people who read my Resident Evil stuff are gonna see that I updated and be like "Yaaaay- wait- Ben 10? WTF?")

Anyways now down to important business. So I've had this idea for a while: Basically this fic will be a bunch of one-shots based on silly, serious, and dare I say sexy scenarios that pop up in my mind of various parings. Not too complicated! I've had this one on my computer for too long now and just never posted it...don't really know why either... so I decided today was the day!

Just enjoy! Reviews are greatly appreciated- I always welcome feedback and constructive criticism. =]

Title: Messages


Genre: Humor/Romance

Rating: T


The long, thin beep resounded in the cramped bedroom, echoing loudly throughout the silence. Again. Not like she hadn't expected it.

Each time following the tone came a crackling noise from the other end, silence, and then an exasperated sigh.

"I'm sorry." This was how every message had begun—around the fourth message the apology seemed less forced and rather genuine—and this apology would lead him into rambling. He rambled on and on and on, saying all the stereotypical phrases he could think of: "It wasn't your fault," "I was outta line," "It was stupid for me to even have said anything," "You were right." None of these words spoke to her deeply or touched her heart in anyway. She knew it wasn't her fault, he was 'outta' line, he should have shut up when he had the chance, and, yes, she was most certainly, and indefinitely, right. Not to toot her own horn, but she was almost always (99.9% of the time) correct and he never wanted to admit it. So toot!

And after he was through kissing her ass with comments about how stunning and wonderful she was, he would end the message with either "please call back," or "I didn't mean it." Click. The line would go dead. That was all…until a few moments later when he would call back, repeating that pattern until Gwen picked up the phone and came crawling back to him.

Yet, she knew he was bullshitting her.

Every one of those sappy apologies towards her and the demoralizing put-downs towards himself was nothing but a bunch of cheap lies. This was Kevin Levin she was dealing with, not your average, everyday guy. No, certainly not average—and she wasn't just referring to the whole mutant thing. Yes, that was a part of his abnormality but his personality was completely different story…

Most guys would get into a fight with their girl, be a gentleman, back down, and later leave the girl a ton of voicemails on their phone seeking sympathy and forgiveness, right? Of course, Kevin couldn't be that easy. The guy was way too damn stubborn; he didn't back down…ever. Instead, he'd simply continue to find an opening in order to get the other to back down or escalate the argument until it became an all-out verbal war involving the constant use of the f-bomb. He was a self-proclaimed master con-artist. A genius when it came to pushing people's buttons.

If anyone had asked her a year ago if his self accusations were true, Gwen couldn't have agreed more. Though now, she knew his game all too well. Kevin was trying to get under her skin and she refused to let him.

Judging by the sound of his last (7th) call, which ended with, "Fine. Whatever. You're being stupid anyways," she could tell his patience was wearing thin. He was getting worked up and she couldn't get enough of it…one more call and he would snap.

"…leave your name, number, and message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible."

Beeep. That thin, high pitched beeping would be the last one of the night.

This time, there was no silence, no sigh. He was straight and to the point.

"Stop jack-assin' around, Gwen, 'cause I know you're there." Gwen liked, no, absolutely loved when he played hard ball with her.

An excited smirk was planted on her face and she found herself relaxing back into her desk chair, simply anticipating what he would say next when she still refused to answer. She loved a good argument with him.

"Ya know what, this is exactly what I hate about women…" Ohh playing the anti-feminist card, huh? Gwen leaned further back into the seat, calm and cool as ever, grinning like the Cheshire Cat, waiting for Kevin to finish the speech she's heard one too many times.

"…You're all the same. Sneakin' around, doing things behind our backs, and then the second we get a little curious we're the bad guys!" His voice, laced with irritation, never wavered. "…just put the blame on the guy and walk away crying. I bet'cha called up your stupid girlfriends too, and what'd you do after that, huh? Eat cookie dough until you all fuckin' exploded? Well good, I hope that that's the reason you haven't picked up the phone…"

This was just getting ridiculous.

"…That's right Gwen, I hope you explode-" she had to interject here.


" 'cuse me?" He was too confused to even care that she even picked up the phone.

"Nietzsche," she repeated, "I read Friedrich Nietzsche when you make me mad. I don't eat cookie dough. Late 1800s philosophy seems to calm me down more than raw food."

She heard him scoff on the other end. "Well how would I know? I'm not a girl," he spat back.

"You certainly act like one sometimes…" Gwen could practically feel the weight of his intense glare through the small phone, making her a little uncomfortable. It was so easy to derail him from the conversation: he'd call for one thing and the second you'd answer he'd be in your face about something completely unrelated to the first topic. She leaned forward onto the desk and distanced the phone from her ear, anticipating the loud change in his voice.

"Why don't you come down to the garage right now and say that to my face, Gwen." It had been more of a statement than a question.

"Maybe I would if it wasn't 2 in the morning, Kevin." Frustration was beginning to set in. Her (somewhat) boyfriend let out a short, condescending chuckle.

"Too much of a goody two shoes to sneak out? Hmpf, you'll never change."

She frowned, her eyebrows scrunched together in irritation. "No. I don't want to walk to the garage in the middle of December." Gwen got up from her chair and ambled over to the window next to her bed, pulled the shade up and gazed at the small white flakes falling from the darkness. "Plus, it's snowing." She perched herself on the windowsill and pressed her forehead against the chilled glass, watching as it fogged up from her steady breathing. While Kevin mumbled on about how much of a baby she was, numerous clanks and bangs of metal on metal could be heard in the background, bringing Gwen out of her thoughts.

"Wait. What are you doing at the garage now?"

"Oh, ya know, just hanging out, having the time of my life—seriously? What do you think? I'm working." Oh. When he had told her he would be working overtime to make some extra cash for the holidays she didn't think he meant this kind of overtime… "I need to be able to buy you at least one good thing for Christmas." Kevin mumbled this quietly but his words didn't go unnoticed.

Gwen frowned at herself, feeling a little guilty for bitching at him earlier- even though he was the one who instigated her. Still, working this late just so he could buy her something nice? She was flattered.

"That's really sweet."

Kevin wasn't always the bad-ass he thought he was. "Yeah, yeah. I'm so sweet it's sickening."

As quickly as the argument had begun, it had ended. The verbal ammunition had ceased on both sides. A brief silence hung in the air, for once it wasn't tense or awkward but kind of…peaceful. Abruptly, Kevin could hear the red-head on the other line start giggling.

"Hey Kev?"

"What?" Despite her mirth, he was still as temperamental as ever.

"Do you even remember what our argument was about?" Without any hesitation, the teen replied, " 'was about how much of a girl you are." There was a heightened level of sass in his tone again.

She glared at the wall and bit her tongue. "No, I mean the one earlier today. The one that started your inexorable calls?"

Inexorable? He'd look it up later. "Nah."

"Me neither."

He sighed. "Well whatever it was about, I want you to know that you were right and I was wrong and-"

"Shut up, Kevin."