Justified ain't mine.
He hadn't come home last night. He wasn't picking up his phone. He always picked up his phone. She was in a sheer panic. Was he dead? Or was he just drunk somewhere? Was he in jail? Was he with Raylan? She tried his phone again. And again. She wondered if she should call the police. See if they had him in there. Or she could drive to his favorite bars. It was possible he was passed out drunk in one of them. Or maybe she could call Raylan. Boyd always managed to get Raylan involved in everything. Maybe Raylan would know. She thought about the absurdity of that action. Her, Ava Crowder, calling Raylan Givens, for the whereabouts of Boyd.
She made a plan of action. She'd drive around town first. Then she'd call the cops. And then she'd call Raylan. So she drove around town, and she didn't find him. She stopped by the Harlan County Jail but he wasn't their either. She drove home, fully intending on calling Raylan the second she got in the door, when she noticed that Boyd's truck in the driveway. She sighed in relief. He was alive.
But he was hung over as hell. She could smell the booze off of him the minute she entered the door. He was on the couch with his eyes shut and his face in a grimace. She thought about going off on him. Telling him he had no right to worry her like that, when she realized the situation they were in, she had no right to be worried in the first place. Awkwardness reigned supreme. All of her confidence gained from her nighttime revelations evaporated the second he opened his eyes to acknowledge her presence.
She told him to wait a second and went into the kitchen to grab him some aspirin and water. She brought it back to him and then sat down and waited for an explanation. He looked at her. This woman that had managed to tame him by doing nothing more than accepting him as he was. This woman that was beautiful and kind. This woman that he loved. And looked at her and told her that he had to leave. Told her he loved her, so he couldn't stay. He'd find somewhere else to go, and he'd stay out of her life because Raylan was right. He caused. He loved her, so he wouldn't cause her any trouble, not because of him. He told her he was going to leave because he wasn't strong enough. He couldn't love her and still stay in the house. The unspoken fact that it was because he knew she didn't love him back lingered in the air.
She let him speak. And then she told him she understood and that she wasn't going to stop him. But if he didn't mind, would he at least stay for dinner tonight? He had helped her out and she wanted to thank him properly. She didn't try to stop him. And even though that fact made Boyd feet like someone took a hammer to his chest he told her he wouldn't miss it for the world.
She smiled far too brightly for the occasion and sent him off to his room. Told him to take a nap and that dinner would be ready when he woke up. He responded that it might be better if he started packing but she wouldn't hear of it. Told him she'd help him tomorrow. So he dragged himself up to his room and stumbled into bed. As he fell asleep, he wondered how it was that even after all these weeks, his room still smelled like her.
Dinner rolled around far too soon and Boyd was confused. Very, very confused. She was dressed up. In a dress that was flaunting all her assets. It made his mouth dry, and his body hot. Was she rubbing it his face? The fact he couldn't have her? It seemed like some sort of cruel and unusual torture. And she kept smiling at him. Not the normal smile. But the kind that she used to flash at boys back in high school, the kind that drove them all crazy. But she was flashing it at him. And she kept talking to him, but in a way she never had before. She was glowing. Her eyes were twinkling. And she kept smiling. Was she flirting with him?
He insisted on washing the dishes. It was the least he could do. He was hoping she might leave the kitchen, so maybe he could compose himself. At the rate the evening was going, he was either about to fall on his knees and beg for a chance or run out of Harlan and never look back. He needed time to think. But she didn't leave. Instead she sat on the counter, being so very Ava that it took every ounce of self control he possessed to stop from dropping the dishes and kissing her right then and there. But he wouldn't. Not this time.
Ava was about to lose her mind. She was throwing everything she had at him. How much more obvious did she need to be? She thought maybe she should literally throw herself at him. So she did. She jumped off the counter, and for a second Boyd panicked. Was she leaving? But what she did next seemed worst. She stood flush behind him, her hands wrapped around his middle and her head resting on his back.
Boyd froze. And then he gave up. He was hers. Utterly and completely. He relaxed into her embrace. Ava smiled when she felt him relax. And then she told him. She told him that she respected his decision to leave if he thought being in love with her and living together was too hard, but that if it made any difference, she loved him back. She told him loved being with him, she trusted him, that the last three weeks had been sheer hell. She told him she slept in his room last night, and just sleeping in his bed made her feel better than she had in weeks. She told him how she wished she had just kept kissing him that day because that's all she can think about.
It took Boyd all of ten seconds to drop his dishes , pull her around and plant his lips firmly on hers. It was like a damn burst open. He loved her. She loved him back. Her hands were in his hair. His hands were trying to unhook the clasp on her dress. Clothes were coming off faster than maybe they should have. And even as every fiber in Ava's being screamed at her to not pull away, she did. And then she almost laughed. She'd never thought of Boyd as being adorable, but with his hair sticking up more than usual no thanks to her, his eyes unfocused and hazy and his lips stained with her lipstick, he was a sight to behold. But she didn't laugh. Because she felt him stiffen. And she knew what he was thinking. He thought she was pulling away again. Like last time.
She kissed him again. To let him know they were fine. And she told him that if they were going to be doing this, they sure as hell would not be doing it her kitchen. Boyd laughed and began to pull her out of the kitchen but she stood her ground. She told him that if they were going to be doing this, she was intending for it to be a long sort of experience. And if that was to be the case, she didn't want to have to come back downstairs to a dirty kitchen. So if he didn't mind finishing up his chores, she'd be much obliged. She did laugh this time at his slack jawed expression.
He didn't let her leave the kitchen. So the dishes took much, much longer than they should have. They kept getting distracted by other more pleasurable activities. They blamed the proximity, and for a few seconds Boyd was genuinely concerned that he would never be able to get anything done, now that he could actually, you know, be with her. But eventually the kitchen was about as clean as it good get with two people preoccupied with other things, and Boyd and Ava ran to what was about to become their favorite place in the house, Boyd's bedroom.
Boyd woke up with a smile on his face and Ava in his arms. He most certainly could get used to this.
Reviews would be lovely! Thanks to RedBrunja, Road Trip Traveler and vkeithely( i.e the only other Ava/Boyd fic writer on here!) The goal is to have an epilogue up before next weeks episode. But this writing happy stuff is way harder than writing the angsty stuff so it may take a little longer. Also I am HORRENDOUS at sexy time bits, so yeah. Thats why that part kind of totally blows.