Title: The One Where Richard and Camille Utterly Fail to be Just Friends
Rating: T+
Category: Richard/Camille, Comedy, Romance, Sexual tension of every kind.
Summary: Sequel to Home Ground Advantage. When Camille said they could 'leave it in England', she totally had her fingers crossed.
A/N: Given the nature of this story, I will probably refer to sex a lot more than I usually do!
"I didn't expect you to like cuddling so much," he heard Camille say from where her head was laid on his chest.
What Camille didn't know when she made that comment was the amount of angst he had suffered over whether he should hold her after sex or not. After Ella had explained to him just who Camille's so called 'friends' really were, he'd double checked on the internet and read the storyline with increasing alarm. Yup, they were a couple who had definitely failed to leave it in London. He'd gone back to his own room where he proceeded to pace back and forth and wonder what the hell he should do. Then it occurred to him that just because characters on some television show had failed, it didn't mean they would.
Richard was, without a doubt, annoyed at Camille – maybe even a bit angry. What had she been thinking? Was she trying to trick him, or just calm him down? Did she actually intend to try to go back to just being friends and colleagues when they got back to Saint Marie? Well, it was a lot of questions, and they weren't ones he was going to be able to answer himself. He thought about confronting her immediately, ceasing their relationship now rather than in a couple of days when they were due to fly back. He didn't, and it was for one reason and one reason only: selfishness. Richard knew he was going to have to give her up, and he'd rather do that later rather than sooner.
On the bus back to Cambridge, with Camille's head on his shoulder as she dozed (apparently he hadn't allowed her to get enough sleep last night), he began to think of ways he could make it easier when they did have to go back. Richard was well versed in all sorts of research, there weren't many areas of science, history or even literary criticism that he didn't find fascinating. Therefore he knew how cuddling, well more specifically the release of oxytocin during physical contact, would promote bonding. In other words, make letting her go harder rather than easier. Thus he really shouldn't be holding her like he was now, but if he only had her for a couple of days he decided he wanted to have every part of that experience – including the nice warm feeling he got from having her in his arms. So here they were, in her room at the hotel near Heathrow, due to get up stupidly early to check in for their flight back to Saint Marie.
Camille nudged him, and he realised she was expecting a response. He had been intending to reply, but had gotten lost in his thoughts – and very nearly just drifted off to sleep. "Sorry," he said, giving his head a little shake to try and engage his brain. He opened his mouth to answer, then realised he didn't really know how to respond to her original comment. "The cuddling is a good thing right?" He asked, whilst stifling a yawn, concerned her statement had been a hint that perhaps he was being too affectionate.
She laughed, which was not the response he was hoping for, but then to his relief said, "Yes, it's a good thing. It's ok, go back to sleep."
"No, we can talk," he told her. "I'm fully awake now."
She raised an eyebrow, levelling him with a look that indicated she didn't believe that for one moment, "It's ok, at least you manage to cuddle me before you go to sleep. A lot of men just roll off you and fall asleep straight afterwards."
"I don't fall asleep straight afterwards," he muttered, to which she gave another small laugh in response.
"I said it was ok, didn't I?" Well she had, and he probably would take her up on the offer, but now something else she had said was bothering him.
"What do you mean when you say a lot of men?"
She sat up and glared at him briefly, but then her features softened when she saw his expression. He wasn't exactly sure what expression that was, but he did know he was feeling a certain amount of very unmanly panic and insecurity.
"I don't mean I've slept with a lot of men, stupid. But you know women talk about these things, so I have my female friends' experiences to draw upon as well as my own." Richard found this both calming and alarming at the same time, but Camille proved herself able to read his thoughts as she continued, "Don't worry, I won't be dissecting our time together with them. I know you would hate that." She put her head back on his chest, snuggling closer.
"Right, um, thanks for that." Considering how uncomfortable he had found the last five minutes, it really would be sensible to just drop the subject, but he felt the need to make up for accidently offending her. "I mean, you're a grown woman, it's not like I mind who you've slept with in the past. It's just…um…" Richard wasn't quite able to admit what had really concerned him, as he thought it would make him look anxious. He knew that wasn't exactly an attractive quality in a man.
"What?" She asked, picking up on his hesitation. When he didn't respond, she said it for him, "You were worried I've been comparing you mentally with my past lovers?" He shrugged, trying to look like it hadn't been particularly bothering him – more like a passing thought.
She gave a small sigh at his feigned nonchalance and shifted to look him in the eye when she spoke, "You don't have to worry about that. I enjoy being with you a hell of a lot. It's why we got zero sight-seeing done yesterday. Now, we have to get up early, so we should both go to sleep." She leaned in to kiss him goodnight, it was soft and gentle – but when she pulled back Richard placed a hand on the back of her neck to bring her back in for another, more passionate, embrace.
Sleep could wait awhile.
Richard was well aware he had to tell Camille that he knew about the truth about Monica and Chandler thing, and he should do so before they actually got back to Saint Marie. Considering they were currently sitting at the gate that left him with the choice of doing so now, or on the plane. It didn't seem like the sort of conversation you should have when one of you would most likely be sitting next to a stranger thanks to the joys of economy class travel, so it looked like he was going to have to suck it up and tell her here and now.
"I know," he said simply, then regretted it because it sounded far too dramatic. Well, it had in his head, but Camille was just looking at him perplexed. Clearly it was not evident to what he was referring to after all. "I know you don't really have friends called Monica and Chandler. Ella told me, it's a story from a TV series."
"Oh," she said quietly, leaning forward in her seat and looking at the ground. "Are you very mad?"
"No," he told her sincerely. "Looking back on it my reaction was a little unreasonable. I can understand why you might have been desperate enough to calm me down that you had to…utilise a less than true example. Overall you probably did the right thing." She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up a hand, because if he didn't saying everything now he might not ever do so. "I also know that in the show that pair of characters were not exactly successful in maintaining their vow to go back to being just friends when they got home. But Camille, it can't be that way for us. There is too much at stake, all of the things I was worried about are still true." He was afraid to look at her, in case he changed his mind immediately, so he stared resolutely at the floor. He felt her shift beside him, sitting up again, and heard her sigh.
"I know. I'm not planning to tell you I'm still on British time when we land and drag you off to bed." He smiled, he remembered that from the Wikipedia article.
"Good, right, um, I think I'll grab a cup of tea before we have to board. Do you want anything?"
"Last dalliance in that emergency stairwell?" Richard whipped up his head to look at her, quite frankly shocked at the suggestion, but she was smiling. "I'm joking. A cappuccino will be fine."
Camille watched as he walked away, a woman a few rows across gave her a sympathetic look and she realised her emotions must be etched on her face. She had genuinely been joking about the stairwell, but if he had agreed she would have followed through on the suggestion. When they'd made love the night before, she hadn't actually thought it would be their last time. She thought they'd be back on the island for less than a day before she brought him round, now she wasn't so sure. His determined little speech made her question if she had really made the most of the time they'd had together, hence the jokey suggestion of another round.
Camille shook herself mentally, as determined as Richard might be that their romantic relationship cease the second they got on the plane she was even more determined that it would not be the case. She did not, for one minute, think she was in this deeper than he was. The way he looked at her, touched her and said her name – they weren't the actions of a man who did not care. Not to mention the fact that in many ways he was old fashioned and also a little insecure – both qualities meant he was unlikely to sleep with her unless he had feelings for her. Once they were back on Saint Marie she would come up with a plan. He wouldn't have a hope in heavens chance of resisting her.
She had the home ground advantage after all.
A/N I thought it would take me forever to start this sequel, but apparently I get a lot of ideas when I am out walking the walls because the plot for the first two chapters just hit me like a ton of bricks.
