If This Is All A Dream

by pjstillnoon

A dramatic Callian story, with explosions and guns and romance. Cal and Gillian witness a crime with severe consequences. To protect them, they're sent to Colorado to start new lives in witness protection. But Cal's never been one to sit still for long. Or follow the rules. And when they're forced together, their relationship is forced to develop as well, for better and for worse.

10. Chapter 10

AN: this chapter is somewhat sexually explicit.

PJ

Gillian wakes early in the morning. Even without the alarm. So even though there isn't an obnoxious claxon to wake her, her body decides now is a good time to get into a routine and become alert. She's fully awake in less than a minute, not even drifting, not even at the point where she can roll over and go back to sleep. Which is annoying. It's Saturday and she thinks she's earned the right to sleep in (she needs one). Her days are tiring (a lot of mental effort. She's had one entirely silent session with Jerome already and she thinks next week is going to be much of the same. He is a kid who is just not interested in being there. She's either going to fail completely or have a major break though; there will be no in-between) and then when she comes home it's like dealing with another child in Cal. She doesn't get him (no, she does get it, he's frustrated and he's taking it out on her). One minute he's fine, and then next hour he's sulking. He's so up and down it's emotionally draining and mentally draining and she thought that it had stopped the day before only for her to come home last night and have him be that silently fuming teenager who doesn't talk about what's bothering him but somehow makes her feel like it's all her fault.

Gillian stares at the wall opposite the bed, blinking her eyes into focus, lying in the darkness as she listens to Cal breathing next to her. She gets he's frustrated, she really does, she's not made of stone (and this is hard on her too) but she doesn't get how he makes her responsible for it. She doesn't get why it's so hard. She also doesn't get why she doesn't say anything about it. She's never been afraid to talk to him about something before, even when he's been a jerk to her about it, even when it seemed to cost them their friendship (she still hasn't figured out what she did to make him act like that towards her either. It can't all have been about Wallowski). Maybe that's it though, he's just... confusing and imagines slights that aren't there (or she really has slighted him, and just has no idea what it was that she did. Which is getting into a pathetic territory).

Ugh. She really hates thinking like this. So much speculation and no answers. The truth is, she doesn't know, has no idea, and is too exhausted to put in the effort to figure it out. Or maybe that's it? She's not putting in the effort. She thought she had been doing better on that front; she certainly hasn't called him on anything since they've been here, not like she would have normally, because she knows he's irritated (actually, he seems downright furious sometimes) and she's trying to make allowances, but maybe that's not actually the right thing to do. Maybe he wants her to ask, to push. Some people are like that. What's glaringly obvious to her, is that she doesn't really know Cal at all. Because, aside from some glimpses, this isn't the Cal she was friends with, business partners with, slowly developing feelings with, back in D.C.

She wonders if she's changed since the explosion. She might have, though she feels the same. Everything in her life has changed, she might have to adapt. She thinks maybe that's what Cal has done, changed to adapt. They've had no other choice. They haven't had a lot of choices about anything really. What if she didn't want to work at the high school? They might be being looked after financially, but it feels like little compensation for what they're suffering to be state's witness. The programme usually deals with criminals, who probably didn't have a great life before (she's making wild generalisations. She knows it's not always living from drug sale to drug sale with threats of violence for every person who regularly breaks the law. Look at Jerome Willis. Bastard) and are moved to somewhere safe and nice. But she was perfectly fine before all of this. She had an income (as wobbly as it could be at times), nice things (shoes. She had nice shoes), a life. Her life. The life she had picked and created for herself (sometimes hard fought for too). And then the marshals came along and just assumed. They just assumed she wanted to live in Colorado and with Cal and to work as a counsellor.

(She might not have minded any of those things, actually, if she had chosen them for herself.)

She wonders what Cal would have chosen for himself if he were given the option (she remembers something about the marshals coming to talk to them about where they were going and what was happening next, but that never happened. And why not? It's not like they had gone anywhere. Oh, except to the hospital that time. Which was kind of her fault...) She figures none of this, seeing as it angers him so much. But really, the marshals did this to both of them, so they should be on each other's side.

They should be on each other's side.

Gillian feels a prickle of tears, the loneliness welling up sharply inside her, pressuring her lungs. She doesn't like feeling like this, and it's not fair. Jerome Willis is the bad guy and yet they're being punished for it.

"Are you crying?" Cal's voice is sleepy in the dark.

"No," Gillian strangles out, a complete lie. It's all a fucking lie really. All a game of pretending and not saying things. She can't tell the people she works with who she really is and where she's really from. She can't explain how she sees Jerome Manning's (not the bad guy Jerome) anger and sadness (and lies on his behalf and tells the VP that he's cooperating with her even when he's not because she knows there's something underlying in him, that he wants to talk about eventually, even though right now he's trying to block her out); she knows the kid isn't rotten to the core (despite what his homeroom teacher callously said to her in the hallway yesterday).

Cal grumbles something and she feels him shift closer. She can imagine the effort he makes to get over the mattress to her, especially when she realises he's on his side and is trying to tug her into an embrace. So she caves and goes with it because he's not the only one who's upset, and he might not like people around when he's grumpy, but she does, because she likes the comfort and affection. She likes to be held. And Cal does. He holds her, even though it's awkward, and she can feel him constantly rocking back and forth as he loses his balance and tries to regain it without crushing her. She thinks he's probably crushing himself and can't be comfortable at all so she pushes against him, so he's on his back and then she moves so she's lying on top of him, full body. His casts dig into her in the worst ways, but she doesn't move and he wraps both arms over her back tightly, holding her in place, and she turns her head to his chest, can hear his heart beat in a comforting rhythm. She closes her eyes and she's not crying anymore (kind of wasn't really in the beginning. Just a weird sob. She doesn't know how she managed to wake him up. But she's kind of glad he did, because this is nice and this is something that she's needed; even though she might not have realised it).

They lie that way for a while but then Gillian notes how Cal's breath starts to hitch; she's crushing him, but he's also bruising her. She moves away from the casts first, slides a leg down each side of his body and then pushes up off his chest. His arms fall away and she's straddling over him, her hands on the mattress on either side of his body, his on top of her thighs and it suddenly strikes her, that this is unexpectedly intimate, and is almost how they started getting closer in the first place (i.e. having sex. Which could have been fine if he hadn't found out she wasn't enjoying it. Which she was, by the way).

He doesn't ask her 'what's wrong' and she doesn't tell him. She leans down and kisses him though. It's still dark (she has no idea what time) but she knows where his mouth is. She's not sure what's going through her mind, just like the first time he kissed her last week, but she knows it's not just about comfort. As frustrating as he is, it's Cal. It's her and Cal. She finally remembers all of that bit and she remembers she wants this bit too; she wants him. The kisses are kind of chaste but she rolls her hips into him and he growls and that undoes her a little. His mouth breaks from hers and his hands reach up higher for her, pulling her in closer. Then he's back to kissing her, a little less gentle about it now and it makes her stomach feel tight, her body throb. His casted hand comes to her jaw but he only uses his fingers to brush against her cheek, into her hair, distracting her from the fact that his left hand is trying to get into her pants (impressive, seeing as it's not his dominant hand. And they've had a rough time with sex before now. Guess he's not shy) and sliding against her skin, growing the burning feeling beneath her stomach so painfully sweet that she grabs at his wrist, pushes against his fingers until he's shifting down and inside her underwear (guess she's not shy either).

Gillian can't manage to get a thought together to try and stop it before it's already started (she thinks maybe they should talk first?); she can't actually object because she's encouraging him. And then very quickly she doesn't want him to stop (fuck talking). She grinds her hips into him as he slides his fingers purposefully. She feels the push of his hips against her from beneath, the firm work of his fingers, driving her quickly (and easily) towards a hotness she can't get her head around. She might have thought it ironic that he was doing this so easily now, and yet last week and a few days ago, it never occurred to him. She might have thought it was unfair that he was doing this now, that she had a moment ago been ready to hash it out with him (probably end up yelling at each other) on an intellectual level instead of just being... all carnal about it. But mostly what she is thinking is how goddamn good it feels and how she so desperately wants the relief she's being promised.

Cal gives up on her mouth, tugs her head down so he can move to her neck, pressing his shoulder against hers (probably trying to get as much contact as possible, seeing as she's sitting on him), as he rounds his fingers against her in large firm circles. Gillian huffs at air, her cheeks hot and her body tingly in all the deliciously good places. She fists a hand into the hair at the side of his head, cool for a second until her fingers warm it. "This ok?" Cal murmurs against her throat. She feels him try to move his head back (probably to look at her. In the dark?) but she shoves his head to the side again, pressing his face into her neck and throws her head back with a breathless groan.

"Yes," she whispers in response (as if the groan wasn't response enough) and Cal gives a grunt.

"Want me inside you?" He asks next, alternately licking and sucking at her skin, his voice low and exquisite.

"Yes!" Gillian cries, her hips pushing towards him again. He obliges and her knees feel weak and foreign (he uses his fingers, but he could have not meant them).

"One or two?"

"Two," she stammers. He fulfils that request as well and she's biting at her lip, not sure she can feel her legs.

"Fast or slow?"

She wants to punch him for forcing her to make decisions. She's silent, riding out the waves rippling through her body for a while. But then he stops dead and she gives a sharp squeak of displeasure, gripping his hair so tightly and squeezing him with her thighs that his body tries rolling away from her, protesting.

"Don't!" She manages.

"Fast or slow?" Cal repeats patiently and even though she doesn't let his hair go, he places soft kisses against her throat.

"Uh," Gillian breathes. She doesn't know. Can't think. Either. All of them. "Both."

Cal gives another grunt (this one sounding amused) and starts moving his fingers again. Agonisingly slowly, making Gillian's muscles tense up all hideously so she feels she might implode like a black hole and suck herself into an abyss. God he's fucking, annoyingly, irritatingly, hot and his fingers and oh! Now he doesn't want any more instruction? He's just... taking initiative now. Good.

God.

Holly mother of god.

And then nothing. No more cursing just the agonising sweetness of release and prickling hotness all through her body. She's shivering and shuddering, her grip too tight in his hair, her legs weak and her strength failing on her; oxygen hard to get. They cling to each other, holding each other tightly. Gillian feels herself sway and shoots out a hand to his shoulder at the same time Cal reaches for her arm to steady her. She slides off him to the side but he makes her stay nice and close. Gillian wishes the light was on. She'd like to see his face, see his expression. She wants to see what he thinks of that. She's acutely aware of the fact that he's turned on (it's nice that he is. Makes her want to return the favour).

"Wow," she gushes.

Cal shifts back, lets her take her own weight (she's resting mostly on the mattress now anyway), slides his fingers over her tingly skin. "Figure I owed you one," he says in the dark and she can read a lot in that tone. Half apology, half pride (that's ok, he can be proud, he did good). She might forgive him, but she's not entirely convinced right now that everything between them is ok (not sure it's an easily-fixed-by-an-apology, or a shag, type problem). It doesn't resolve the see-saw nature to his mood, nor does it fix the feelings of loneliness inside her. The first time they had sex, she thought it might be a means to an end, a chance for them to get closer, intimate, and share things, talk about things (or not, as the case may be) for them to get over the hurdle. But it seemed to cause more friction between them (and not the good kind). But something has to change.

"I need it to be different Cal," Gillian starts. It's still dark, she's feeling pretty good, now might be a good time for getting a few things out in the open.

"What was that then?" Cal asks her. Not sharply but still, there's something in his tone that doesn't brook argument. And when she thinks about it, he is kind of right. That right there was different. Firstly, she had an orgasm. Secondly, he could have tried for sex, and was, instead, unselfish and did something just for her (and he's not hinting at reciprocation). So yeah, it's different on two fronts and maybe she should take that and go with it. Give him a chance to show her. It does seem as though he's trying, and she can't, and won't, fault him for that (even if it did take a while). Not everything has to be a discussion.

PJ

Ok, so the plan was to do something for Gillian, to show her he wasn't a completely selfish bastard, (and that also, by the way, he does know his way around a woman's body, thank you very much. Plus, he was paying attention when Gillian showed him) not necessarily have her reciprocate. But oh he is not complaining (and he's not going to shove her away. He's not that much of an idiot). She doesn't need direction though, seems to have it entirely under control, while he slowly loses it (he probably couldn't manage to voice requests anyway). Even kicking her (accidentally) with his bulky cast doesn't put her off and he is absolutely putty in her... mouth. Even when he feels like he's about to climax, his body tensing with it and the words in the back of his throat to warn her, she withdraws and squeezes the tip of him so hard that everything dials back several notches and he can go twice as long.

Seriously, he thinks he loves her even more.

After he had finished her (and, it just goes to show, there is no way he could have missed her climaxing if he had truly been paying attention before. Not after the delightful show she put on a moment ago. Definitely no way he would have missed that normally. Which means he's kind of been a prick, even if he didn't actually mean to. And he wishes the lights were on, so he could see her face) she slid off him and he pushed himself into a sitting position (even though its dark, he's not going back to sleep) preparing to get up. But she didn't leave the room. She pulled back the covers and kneeled over his thighs and lowered her head to his groin.

It's probably the best blow job he's had in... well, maybe saying his whole life would be an exaggeration, but it's got to be incredibly close. It's certainly the best he's had in a long time (he can't even think back to the last one) and he wishes it were this good when they were actually having sex. Because sex isn't just about him getting off, it's meant to be about intimacy and being connected and he most definitely wants that with Gillian. That's why he wanted to do something just for her when the opportunity arose (he's not much in a position to be able to instigate, but he is willing to take control as much as he can).

For half a day, after she told him she had 'thought it would get better' (and she was so clearly disappointed that it hadn't, that he was a failure) he thought about getting over her. But as soon as she comes home he wants to be with her all over again (and no, it's not lost on him that when she's here it feels like home,and when she's not it's just a house to him). Which makes the whole non-orgasm thing so much more pitiful because he wants her to feel as fricking good as he feels right now, every time they're together.

Gillian finishes, gets up and kisses him on the cheek, murmuring that she's going to go have a shower, and leaves him shaky and sweaty on the bed, in the dark, coming down off a beautiful high, unable to form words (doesn't say thank you). He was actually serious about just doing something for Gillian, but this is better; it already feels much more intimate. As he regains his breath he thinks he should probably go have a wash as well. He's actually really glad that he thought to yesterday, what with all the... intimacy... that has inadvertently occurred. Because he's kind of been a slob too really. He doesn't remember the last time he bothered with a proper sponge bath (just did the important bits) and it's been over a week since Gillian washed his hair for him (he didn't this latest time, to be fair. He managed one shampoo in the bathroom sink before he just got tired with using his left arm, leaning over etc. The whole thing. And gave up).

Cal gets himself back together, shifts to the edge of the bed. He reaches for his crutches but they seem to be gone. He was pretty sure he brought them to bed last night, but it wouldn't be the first time he's left them in another part of the house. He leans to put the bedside light on, the brightness cutting into his eyes. He sees the time (seven) and his crutches; they slid to the floor. It's a bit bloody awkward trying to stoop to pick them up (when he can't bend his knee at all) but luckily for him, Gillian's not around to witness (or do it for him).

A few minutes later, when Cal's at the dresser putting a clean shirt on, Gillian comes in. She comes to stand in front of him (in only a towel... with her hair all wet... good lord) and puts an arm around his shoulder, a kiss on his mouth. He catches the scent of soap and she asks him if he wants breakfast. It takes him a moment to find his voice (she does that to him); yes he does. She entices him with eggs and bacon and coffee.

"You had me at breakfast," Cal tells her and she laughs, her eyes a beautiful colour in the light (it really is amazing what a good orgasm can do to a mood), and Cal smiles in response. "Thank you," he blurts.

She gives him an easy smile. "You're welcome."

"No," Cal brings a hand to her waist, getting serious. "Thank you."

A little frown creases her forehead and she loses that easy amused air. "For?"

"You know," he gestures to the bed (and yes, he's pathetic for not being able to say it aloud).

The smile is back, coy and pleased. "Well, thank you." Cal grins and she presses a kiss against his smiling mouth. She tells him she's going to go and get dressed (he's disappointed she's not going to get naked right here) and that she'll be back in a minute. He hears her on the stairs as he goes to use the bathroom himself. Then he swings himself down to the kitchen and starts with making coffee. Gillian seems pleased enough when she comes (she gives his waist a squeeze, both hands on each side) and goes to get mugs.

She smells really amazing.

Cal pours coffee while Gillian gets ingredients from the fridge. She cooks and Cal stands near her watching; they both sip at coffee. Gillian's mostly silent as she works but she's flirty and that is what draws Cal near (plus, she touches him every so often and he's not going to swing away from that). She does make occasional comments, about laundry and other mundane things, but Cal doesn't mind it much. The important bit is that it feels comfortable, and he doesn't feel like a grumpy frustrated asshole (orgasms really do do a lot for mood).

Gillian serves up and they go through to the dining room to eat in more comfortable silence. Gillian carries Cal's plate for him but when he approaches the table he realises it's the perfect height for him to bend her over it (he thinks he might be able to manage that and it sounds preferable to her always on top of him. Note the always part.)

"Ok?" Gillian asks him with an amused look in her eye.

Cal realises she's already sitting, fork in hand, while he's standing by his place setting, eyes glazed, fantasising about screwing her against the furniture. "Yeah," he sits hurriedly (hurriedly for him anyway, which still involves some odd manoeuvring and banging his plaster against the wooden table. But he is actually getting better at it).

Breakfast is good but conversation is light. Cal's not entirely sure what to say now after the sexy bits. It's not embarrassing or weird, it's just... They've had a weird week and it's basically swung around a hundred and eighty degrees and he's not sure of his footing again. It feels better, but he thinks it's probably not 'fixed'. Gillian doesn't bring it up and it was never his intention to (he was going to show her, rather than tell her, because he's not sure she would believe him if he used words).

When they fall into silence he pushes on to tell her about attempting to wash his own hair (and mostly failing) and Gillian studies him all over (which makes him feel squirmy and he has to look away; which also unsettles him because he's not used to being under scrutiny that he can't handle) and she casually offers to help him do it properly. Cal agrees (he's not not going to have her completely undivided attention) and then asks about her job to take the heat off of him (because he keeps trying to picture her face while he's got his fingers inside her and then with her head in his lap and normally that wouldn't bother him at all, but there's the whole three-times-no-orgasm thing still hanging over them and now they haven't dealt with it. Which, he admits, maybe he was hoping the bit in bed was going to change. However, it hasn't instigated a conversation. So. Now it's strange again. But for a different reason. Or maybe it's just strange for him. Gillian doesn't seem to be having a problem with this. And even that kind of annoys him a bit. She's far more frustrating than he originally thought. And he needs to calm the hell down lest he let himself get carried away with being grumpy, and also, she's talking, so he should listen).

Gillian actually gives him a bit more details about her new job than she has before and so he's able to ask follow up questions and gets a vague picture of what her new life outside of this house is like. She leaves so damn early in the morning (some mornings) because she has to be available from seven-thirty (!) in case a student needs to talk to her. But on the flip side she can come home early those days too (Cal only noticed that once. Shame on him). She spends most of her time in her office. She tells him whereabouts it's located and who else works there. She seems... happy, talking about it and describing it to him and he feels... jealous and sort of weird. He feels not happy about it. But he's not entirely sure why. Jealous because she gets to leave the house and have a life? Or jealous because she's having a life without him?

Cal watches Gillian eat and talk, tries to imagine her face when she's in the throes of ecstasy; her mouth, on him, and the little dart of her tongue when she puts food past her lips. He thinks about the table again. He thinks about Gillian sitting on it with hardly any clothes on, her thighs around his waist, and that expression again... (he'd rather see it in person than try to drum up an inferior image).

"You're a million miles away?" Gillian says.

"I want to do you on the table," Cal blurts without thinking. If he could have kicked himself, he would have. This is probably not the right to be making requests (and he's not sure he has the right to, seeing as he... has been... selfish-but-not-selfish). He looks over at Gillian and her face is frozen in astonishment. Cal's face feels warm and he hopes he's not blushing. Gillian's eyes flicker down and then back up to meet his while he's trying to think of something to say to cover that slip of the tongue (mmm Gillian's tongue).

"Right now?" She speaks into the silence. "Or can I finish my breakfast?"

Cal laughs, because he can't help it (he's embarrassed. He's never been that crude with Gillian. He's been suggestive, but it's usually been pretty tame) but to his relief, Gillian joins him. Colour rises in her cheeks but she does chuckle. Her eyes flicker back to her plate; she wasn't being serious. Cal wonders if she will take any of what he said seriously. Because he kind of was.

Gillian finishes her food. She gets up and warps an arm around his head, plants a kiss at the side of his eye before leaving the room. She stacks the dishwasher, leaving it for Cal to add his plate and turn on. But by the time he gets to the kitchen (a slow an awkward process while trying to carry something) she's gone again. He hears her upstairs and waits at the stairs for her to come back down, but she doesn't and after a minute he gives up waiting and goes to the couch, slinging himself down in his usual position and closing his eyes. When he holds his breath (which makes it quieter) he can hear the beep of the washing machine. It suddenly occurs to him that he could have done laundry during the week. Just like he could have cooked, to save Gillian from having to do it when she got home from work. He files that way for his plan to be less of a moody prick; he can show her.

"Are you awake?" He hears and then almost immediately. "Or maybe not."

Cal opens his eyes and looks up at Gillian standing over him (who looks just as cute in comfy home clothes and no make-up as she does in work attire and sexy heels). She's looking down at him. "I am," he counters and she gives him a smile. He finds himself returning it and he can't help but think about this morning and just before, at the table (letting slip about the table...). Mostly this morning though, the sound of her desperate voice, the pulse of her hips against his body as she strived towards release, the hotness and wetness; it's almost like they'd had sex for the first time (like how it should have been the first time they had sex) and now he can't get it out of his head. And then there was the bit where she shoved him back down to the bed and made an entirely memorable mess of him. He's at risk of his body suddenly revealing too much. And maybe he already has given something away in his face, because Gillian's expression changes and she wets her lips and there's something dirty and hungry in her eyes.

She moves slowly, gives him warning, but she's still quickly straddling over his chest and leaning down to kiss him, her hands planted on his shoulders, her short hair falling against his cheek. He brings his hands to her jaw (has to hurriedly struggle his broken one out from the back of the couch) and caresses her skin, holds her hair out of his face, pulls her a little closer. She doesn't kiss him chastely, she gets into it right away, but nor is it vulgar; it's intense, it's purposeful; it turns him on a little more. She gives a hum against his mouth and pushes her nose into the side of his as she opens her mouth further. She tastes of mint and hints of coffee and she smells clean and enticing. Cal feels warm all over and just as he realises he's forgotten to breathe and needs air, Gillian breaks away from him with a heavy sigh, kissing along his cheek, her breath hot against his skin until she reaches his ear. She uses her tongue to trace around the ridges of cartilage, making him flinch hard and hitch his breath. There's a groan escaping out of his throat before he can help it but Gillian doesn't hesitate or gloat, she keeps going.

Cal uses his left hand to pull at the sweatshirt she's wearing, finding the slight gap where it ends and her stomach is beneath (has to squish in there because she's pressing against him) and drags fingers over the bare, hot skin there. Gillian presses down with her hips against his ribs, gripping with her thighs, and when he gains a bit more of his senses and realises he can bury his face into her neck (because she's leaning so low) and use his tongue too (two can play that game) it's Gillian who's whispering little moans right into his ear. It's hot. It's seriously hot. She's so... damn... she's just hot. He could fantasise about her for the rest of his life.

How come it wasn't like this before?

What had he missed?

Aside from the obvious bit (yeah, yeah, he gets it), how come it wasn't like this from the start? From their very first kiss? Had he misread the timing of that night? Maybe he was meant to take her out to dinner and a romantic walk along the river (there was a river here in Boulder, wasn't there?) or a park or something (like he was going to walk with her anywhere right now). The fact that he had a broken leg put the kibosh on that so he had gone for a back up. He thought they had been getting closer, she was in bed with him, she was practically leaning all over him, so he had gone for it (but maybe that had been wrong?). And yet, Gillian hadn't been complaining. She had kissed him back (heatedly). And she was the one to start exploring and taking clothes off.

But that doesn't explain why Gillian's kissing him this way now, instead of then, and it doesn't explain why she was the one to move them along towards the bit where they were no long making out and were instead actually screwing. She had done that; she took charge. So he had assumed she was ready (maybe they hadn't fooled around long enough? Probably, actually, probably. But she could have stopped him, she could have insisted on more; he would have done anything she asked.) If he wasn't physically limited, he might have insisted on a bit more touching (to be fair, if he wasn't physically restrained like he is now, he would have absolutely been in there, on his knees in front of her. He would definitely get down on his knees for her. No doubt). He would have taken a bit more control himself; made sure she was already crying out his name before he took anything for himself.

He doesn't know why he's still going over it. He can't change the past, only the future and he's already promised himself he will.

He's still partially (mostly) at Gillian's mercy now. She's mobile and on top of him, sitting on his chest (which at least means she's nice and close. He can use his right hand to grip into the back of her knee). He'd like to turn her over, press her down into the couch, but the sheer, ludicrous half thought of him attempting that stays his place. It's frustrating, but he starts to see that this hasn't all been his fault. And he kind of tried to make it better. And that might have worked, because Gillian's here now, clearly wanting more (that is most definitely a good thing) and Cal starts to let himself off the hook. He wants to go with this new moment, the seriously hot kissing (Gillian goes back to his mouth, relentless, her hips grinding, her tongue deep and thorough), and pretend the disastrous other attempts at sex haven't even occurred. He might not actually be up for much right now (he's older than he used to be... it's harder. Or not, as the case may be) but that doesn't mean he can't do things for her. Over and over and over...

He really would like to make love to her though. When he's thought about them being together for the first time (and yes, he's thought about it before. Extensively), he imagined it more like this (hot and a little desperate), and much less like those other times (yes, that might be a little arrogant of him, and yes, he's let himself off the hook completely. He's not saying Gillian's at fault. But she did take charge). This is Gillian. Their chemistry has been fantastic. It was meant to be like this. Not like that.

"Cal," Gillian murmurs against his mouth. Cal pushes up with his hips (connects with nothing, because she's not there, but hah! This time, he only put pressure on his left unbroken leg), reaches with his left hand (he's trying to get to breast but the angle is not quite right) and follows her mouth when she breaks away to look down at him. Her eyes are dark and her cheeks a little red and somehow her hair has gotten sexily tossed; god she looks incredible. He wants her. He wants her so badly. Please let her want him as well.

"Gillian," Cal whispers back into the short gap before her mouth is back on his. Mmm damn she feels so good. He skirts fingers around her ribs, falling into that subconscious rhythm of kissing and caressing, building the heat within them both. He can't understand why it wasn't like this from the start, but he knows that this is how amazing it's meant to be (and the little preview in bed this morning is a very good goal to strive for; but he definitely wants to knock it out of the park).

A knock at the door has him disrupted and as he hesitates Gillian picks up on it and draws away, a questioning expression in her eye. "Door," Cal murmurs and Gillian is entertainingly confused for a few seconds. Then there's another knock and something else comes over her, that slight hesitation and worry (it seems for a moment there, both of them managed to forget that they're in hiding). Gillian swings off him, grabbing at her top to return it to place, smoothing back her hair (it's a little disappointing that she seems to get a grip on herself so easily. Cal wants to be able to completely disarm her. He wants to be the most amazing thing that ever happened to her.)

"Hi," Gillian answers the door with a smile in her tone (Cal can't see, but he can hear) and there's a responding female voice. Cal can't quite catch her words but he picks up on enough of it from Gillian to decipher the conversation (and he can tell it's nothing to worry about). The woman at the door is a neighbour (obviously one Gillian has met before, because she's very friendly). She's telling Gillian about something and inviting her (and probably Cal too) to attend. Gillian is gracious (and maybe a little pleased. Which doesn't bode well for Cal) and makes agreement type statements, while also possibly leaving herself an out if she needs it. Gillian thanks the woman for coming over. She says goodbye and closes the door. Cal shifts himself into a sitting position (turning to put his cast on the coffee table), somehow knowing the chances of finishing what they started are slim. Gillian comes back into the room with a smile and Cal feels wary.

"That was Mary-Ann," Gillian tells him.

Cal does a blank. Is he meant to know who Mary-Ann is?

"Our neighbour from across the road?" Gillian prompts as she pushes him back by the shoulder so he's resting against the back of the couch. She kneels on the cushion to straddle across his thighs and Cal thinks his chances of continuing the making out/feeling up might have suddenly greatly increased their odds. He looks up at her, sees the question on her face, remembers that she was asking him a question. Mary-Ann from across the street. Grocery/casserole lady.

"Right," he nods.

"They're having a barbeque dinner this afternoon and invited us over."

'Sounds horrendous,' Cal thinks to himself. He keeps his face neutral for Gillian though because one, he can tell she likes the idea and two, he half suspects she's going to make him go (if he can't think of a good reason why not quickly enough).

"What do you think?" She goes on.

Cal takes a second to breathe. How to handle this?

"You don't want to?" Gillian asks him anyway.

"Isn't it a bit cold to be eating outside?"

Gillian shrugs. "They're celebrating that we didn't get any more snow."

"Could snow today."

"It's not forecast," Gillian sing-songs with a smile.

"Well that doesn't mean anything," Cal counters bluntly, an amused expression of his own.

"Do you want to come?" Gillian asks again and her tone has lost its teasing.

"Not really."

"Ok," Gillian says, just as neutral as she was a moment ago. Cal isn't sure what to do with that at all. It's implied so heavily in the air that he should go, and yet Gillian isn't demanding it, isn't making a scene, isn't manipulating him. But she kind of is. Because if he says he isn't going then she will get mad at him and they just seemed to have gotten over the silent treatment bit. And if he goes then he's going to hate it and be all miserable about having to stand on his broken leg for most of the evening (she'll probably say she'll make sure to find him a chair. And she will, but that's not the point) and make small talk with people he doesn't know and will probably be bored shitless.

All of that in just one look on her face.

Cal sighs. "Fine I'll go."

"No that's ok, if you don't want to go," Gillian responds casually. "But I'm going to. So I'm going to make a pasta salad to take." She goes to shift off him (moving carefully so she doesn't crush her weight into the small surface area of his un-plastered thigh) but Cal stops her with a hand on her arm.

"I'll go," he repeats.

"You just said you didn't want to go."

"Yes," he agrees, but it feels like a trap. And he notices just how odd this situation has become. He and Gillian have fallen into 'old married couple' territory. Gillian who was, until a month ago, just his business partner and (best) friend. Who he also was secretly in love with (still is, he thinks... or knows...) and hiding from everyone. He wanted to be with her and now that he is he finds it surreal and unmanageable. They're doing this whole thing backwards and he's not sure he's comfortable with that (they also went from crappy sex to hot oral sex when isn't it meant to be the other way around?). "But, do you want me to go?"

"Sure. I'd like that," Gillian says. She studies him for a moment and he flounders because... because... where's the bit where she argues that he has to be social for her and make an effort and if he expects to get any then he's going to do what she suggests? And it is just a suggestion. He can stay here if he wants to. But then he's definitely going to be in the dog box, he just knows it. But Gillian doesn't say any of that normal stuff and Cal can't seem to find it in her demeanour, even though he looks. She seems genuinely content to go to the neighbour thing on her own and Cal doesn't like it. Maybe he'd like to be begged a little. Maybe that's a shitty way to behave. He doesn't really know what to do. He's not encountered this before. He hopes it gets easier, between them, he hopes this whole thing gets better.

"Cal," Gillian gives a frustrated sigh. "Why is this so hard?" She asks quietly.

Is she reading his thoughts?

"You either want to go, or you don't," Gillian finishes.

Maybe she isn't reading his thoughts.

Because the thing is, he doesn't know.

Cal almost asks her to beg him but that's really not right. He wants to go to be with her, but he doesn't want to go for all the other patience-trying conversations he's going to have to have. Actually, that's not half bad. "I want to spend the evening with you. So if you're going to be across the road, then I guess I will be too," he says.

Gillian watches him a second and then her expression softens micro-fractionally and she gives a slight little smile that she feels the need to smother against his mouth. She gives him a tight kiss, her fingers against his jaw as she leans into him and then pulls back, amused but kind of resigned. "Good save," she notes and does get up this time. "Want to help me make something?" She asks casually as she leaves the room.

"No," Cal calls after her. He hears the huff of her laugh and sits silently for a moment. He can't help but feel as though he's been played, but he can't quite see how. He's meant to make a decision but the decision should be the one that she wanted? Does it matter? He did tell her the truth though: he wants to be where she is. And he's trying to be less of a moody bastard. So... Good.

Then he pushes himself to get up and follow her into the kitchen anyway.