Of Kith and Kin
Chapter 11 – Lovers in the Garden: Thorns
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She came home from her internship and he met her with a kiss. He was always at the front door with a kiss and she loved it like an eager puppy. In four weeks he hadn't failed, and in four weeks she'd grown dependent, needing his mouth to soothe the day from her skin.
She changed her clothes and met him in the kitchen. He was making dinner and she joined him, their movements a concert, an unspoken rhythm as she cut and he chopped and he stirred and she seasoned. She tipped back a bottle of beer, then poured a bit into the sauté pan, drawing back as the steam rushed at her face. She felt his steadying hand at the small of her back, an unspoken question that she answered with a light kiss to his cheek.
It was always there, his tender concern, and she bloomed under his care, growing more fully into a woman with each passing day. There was a confidence to her now, in the way that she approached the world, steadier on her two feet than she had ever been.
When she was at the office she took pride in her work, no longer demure under the compliments of her superiors but proud of her accomplishments, proud of a job well done. She stood taller, her back straight, and wore her new poise with an easy air that belied her usually awkward ways. For the first time that she could remember, her flesh was free of bruises, save for five small purple points on her left hip – greedy fingertips that she hadn't felt at the time.
When the food was ready they dished up their plates, sitting at the tiny table in the corner. He studied his food, unusually quiet as she talked of her day, of the gossip in her small office, and revealed the secrets of her trade, one trick at a time.
She took another sip of her beer and noticed him brooding over the last few bites of his pasta.
"Hey," she said, her eyes softly probing his. He held her gaze for only a moment, then looked down, stirring the noodles on his plate again.
"My father will be here tomorrow night. I guess he's got a conference in San Diego, and he booked a long layover here on his way down." He didn't meet her eyes and that told her all she needed to know.
"Oh," she said. "What timing. I have to work late. Big presentation on Thursday, remember? It's the only time we can all get together."
She willed him to contradict her. She willed him to tell her to change her plans but instead he speared a piece of shrimp and tossed it into his mouth, chewing and swallowing while still looking at his plate.
"Yeah?" he asked. "Huh. Well, that's too bad," he said, not meeting her eyes.
"Yeah," she said, standing to take her plate to the kitchen. "Are you done?" she asked.
"No," he answered, and pushed the food around his plate some more.
She took her dishes to the kitchen and washed them, then started on the pots and pans. He came in twenty minutes later, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her tight for long minutes while hot water ran down the drain. After a while he released her with a kiss to the cheek, before holing himself up in the spare bedroom, books spread out around him, making notes and marking pages, earnest in his studies.
She spent the evening on her laptop, reviewing her work before giving in hours later and going to bed.
"I'll be in soon," he said, not meeting her eyes but accepting her kiss against his neck.
When the alarm went off the next morning she was alone. He'd fallen asleep at his desk, his hair falling unruly over his notebook, an ink pen tipping over in his loose grip. She woke him, stroking the back of his neck with her fingers, whispering endearments, then holding his hand as she led him to their bed. He curled a hand around her thigh, pulling her down onto the bed, down into him, covering her with the weight of his body. "Can't go," he mumbled, and so she stayed, waiting for his breathing to become slow and smooth again before easing herself out from under him and slipping away to work.
That night, she slept in the bed of her rented room for the first time since she'd gone to his house. The sheets were rough and the sounds of the neighborhood were unfamiliar around her. She tossed and turned most of the night, wishing that he would call her home to him, finally crying herself to sleep when she realized that he wouldn't.
She spent the next day in haze, mumbling through her presentation and claiming illness as her cover. She was ill. She was heartsick. That man, her beautiful man, didn't want her in the real world. And whatever they'd been doing for the last four weeks wasn't the love she thought it was. She bit back tears, again and again, feeling every bit the foolish girl that he must imagine her to be. Finally, she lost herself in her work, surfacing long after everyone had gone home for the day. The idea of another night in that small, stuffy room was terrifying, but the idea of calling him, and hearing his rejection, scared her more.
She rode the elevator down to the parking garage and groped in her messenger bag for her keys as she walked past the empty rows of parking stalls. Her footsteps echoed and the dark shadows seemed ominous under the orange glow of the sodium lights. When she turned down her aisle and looked up, her breath caught and the keys fell from her hand.
He walked toward her, his face showing the same confusion, the same pain that she felt.
"I'm so sorry," he said, sweeping her up into his arms, off of her feet, his grip on her tight, pressing every inch of her into him. "I'm so sorry. I wasn't ready. I didn't know what to do." His voice sounded so small and scared, like a lost child. She knew she'd do anything to take his fear away, to see him happy.
She clung to him, her fingers digging into his flesh, making him real for her again. Her emotions went to war, relief and pain coursing through her, anger rising in the back of her throat and she lost her fight for control as the tears spilled down her face.
He saw her tears and put her back down, his hands quick to wipe them away. "Please, baby," he said. "I'm so sorry."
She saw his eyes, full of grief in the dim light and sobbed, unable to hold it back. "I thought you didn't want me," she said, the words a choked gargle.
"No," he breathed, "don't ever think that. I always want you." He gripped her, his mouth spilling kisses over her cheeks, her nose, her hair and forehead. "Come home, please," he asked.
She nodded against him and he sighed. She felt the tension begin to ebb from his flesh. He led her to his car, leaving hers in the lot for the night.
When they arrived at his house and walked through the door, it became home again for them both. She wrapped herself around him, her need for his love a tangible thing. He pulled her to him, echoing her need, each of them with greedy fingers, greedy mouths, their desperation a flavor on their skin as he pushed into her and she arched onto him, their eyes shiny with fear.
It was hours before the fear finally gave way, loosing its grip on them both, and their frantic coupling took on a sweeter, more reverent tone.
"I didn't know how to answer questions about us," he said. "I was afraid of what would happen."
"It's okay," she said. "I understand."
"It's not. I hurt you."
"So kiss it," she said, pointing to her heart. "And make it better."
He did and she sighed and relaxed into his embrace.
The next morning saw another sick day as they took turns, kissing to make it better. And by the end of the day, it was.
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AN: Well. This is what happens when I wait 'til Saturday night and I'm kind of buzzed to write this. Sorry!
Mega, massive beta thanks to Krismom and FarDaresMai2. They keep the ship right, and steering true north. I dicked around with this some after they beta'd. So typos and all are my issue, not theirs. :)
My endless love and affection to TallulahBelle for her incredible support of this fic. I'm amazed and awed. AccioBourbon, for her wonderful words, that have touched me far beyond the 1's and 0's they're made from. And AmeryMarie, who, at the end of this tale, will own at least half of a puppy (don't ask).
So many of you have shared your personal stories with me. I can't even begin to thank you. It's amazing how telling the truth, even if it seems small, can make us feel so much less alone. Thank you.
This week I've been rereading the Black Dagger Brotherhood books, which are quite yummy the second go-round.
Got an amazing fic I should read? Let me know – I'm hungry for something new!