Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)
A/N: I was really enjoying being able to post every day, but once I ran through the first part of the story (it goes fast with long chapters), which I had initially written all at once in a burst of inspiration, I've had trouble keeping up that pace… something about the impending Christmas holiday that's happening in another week in real life, not just in a few days in this fic, plus all the other insanities of my life. I definitely can't get the ideas down as fast as they're coming to me though. This chapter has a few little callbacks to some of my other fics, which I know that at least one of you will catch. :) Enjoy!
Kurt's plan had been to get on the road for Clearfield early – around six am, if possible – and he figured he could easily accomplish that without an alarm. After all, he seemed to wake up early naturally, even when he went to bed far too late. The only times when he really slept in were when he was hung over, and since he hadn't had anywhere near enough to drink at the party the night before to make that a possibility, he'd never thought to turn on his alarm. Of course, he'd never anticipated that he would have the night that he'd ended up having. Therefore, they were not on the road at six am. In fact, it was almost seven thirty by the time he stirred for the first time.
Before his eyes even opened he could tell that he wasn't in his own bed, and before his brain was awake enough to understand why, he felt someone else lying next to him… Alarm bells sounded in his head, and he promptly had a split second of panic. What in the world did I do last night? Who—? And then it all came flooding back to him, everything from the night before, all the way back to the party, and Jane… all of it. He still hadn't exerted the effort to push his eyes open, and yet now that he remembered, now he was smiling, just thinking about where he was at that moment and the fact that it was Jane who was there so close to him.
Just the thought of it all, the sensation of his arms around her… he was more than a little bit in Awe. He lay there, awake, with his eyes closed, just enjoying the moment. There had been a time when he'd let himself imagine something like this, a time that was now long past. This unexpected reality, however, was better than anything he had ever imagined, and he was almost unwilling to open his eyes and begin the process of waking up. After all, that would inevitably lead, eventually, to having to leave this position. How long could he get away with staying like this?
So he lay there with a smile on his face, soaking in the moment as he gradually became more and more awake, and the need to see her face became stronger and stronger. Finally, he let his eyes blink open, taking a second for everything to come into focus. When they did, he saw Jane, very much awake and watching him with a hesitant smile. She was still laying with her back against him, but she'd twisted her shoulders just enough to be able to look at him without giving herself a sore neck.
"Good morning," he said groggily, not looking any farther into the room than her face right in front of him.
She smiled back awkwardly, glancing down, and then back up at him. "Good morning," she said quietly. There was more than a hint of uncertainty in her voice. If he didn't know better, he'd say that she'd been awake and overthinking things for a while already.
"What time is it?" he asked, looking up over his right shoulder at the sun coming in through the window above the couch and knowing that it was later than he'd intended to sleep. Not that it really mattered, but he needed to have an idea how to adjust things.
"About seven thirty," she told him, after turning to consult the clock across the room. She turned back around, or as far around as she'd been when he'd woken up, and was once again watching him carefully, he noticed.
The longer they lay there watching each other, the more awkward she felt about having fallen asleep on the couch pressed so close to him like this. Yes, they'd agreed last night – it seemed like the whole thing should have been weird, but it hadn't been. Except that at that moment, it was weird – at least as far as she was concerned.
A million things were racing through her head at that moment. She felt like she should definitely sit up, like she should not be lying here with him, with his arms around her like this. It was perfect, after all. Too perfect. Perfect didn't happen to her. Good barely happened to her, and only as a setup for heartbreak, for pain. No, she definitely needed to sit up, get a little bit of distance from him…
Except for the fact that she had absolutely no desire whatsoever to do that. She didn't want to sit up, she didn't want to be farther away from him, she didn't want him to let go of her… and it terrified her. Why did I think that this weekend would possibly be a good idea? she thought frantically. Why in my right mind would I ever have thought that? What am I doing here?
They watched each other carefully and, since they were so close together and since he knew her so well, he could almost hear the grinding of the wheels in her head. Her pulse was racing, she was beginning to breathe faster, and as the seconds ticked by, there was a more and more terrified look in her eyes… He could feel her tensing up in his arms, and he hoped that it didn't all mean she was going to suddenly bolt, though it seemed to be becoming a greater and greater possibility.
While he wished that she didn't feel like she needed to protect herself from him – because that's what it was, after all – he knew that part of it was, once again, his own fault. You did this to yourself, he thought, to use a phrase that he'd already overused to remind himself of his own guilt. Pushing those thoughts aside once more, he decided to try to finally do something about it.
Knowing that he'd already said the words to her – lots of them – the ones that he hoped would make her relax, he decided that she needed actions even more than she needed words. When he pulled his arms just a little tighter around her, for a second he felt her go even more rigid, and he wondered if he'd made the wrong decision.
Give it a minute, he told himself, and leaned his forehead against the side of her face, just holding it there. After a few more seconds he felt the tension in her seem to leave, but now her breathing was different – it wasn't fast, but it was shaky and almost like she was gasping for breath without actually gasping, if that made any sense.
It doesn't, he assured himself as he leaned his head back to try to get a look at her face.
She was staring at the ceiling, looking distraught. After staring at her profile for several seconds, unable to figure out the best thing to say to bring her back from wherever she'd gone, he knew only that he had to get her out of her own head again. "Jane?" He said her name worriedly, as more of a question than anything else.
Jane. The sound of her name echoed in her head from far away, and she knew that she needed to follow the sound… but how do you follow an echo? Waiting to see if she'd hear it again, she tried to quiet the roaring sound of her thoughts, which were making it hard to hear anything else.
"Hey, Jane, it's okay. It's going to be okay."
There it was, her name again. Latching onto it with all her might, she used the sound of his voice as a rope, pulling as hard as she could to bring herself back to the surface, out of the dark depths of her thoughts. She knew it wasn't a place she wanted to go, of course, but somehow she could never quite stop herself.
He continued to watch her as her eyes squeezed shut and she pursed her lips, clearly exerting some sort of mental effort, followed by a deep breath. And then her eyes blinked open again, and she turned slowly to look at him. If it was possible, the green of her eyes was even more vibrant than ever, he thought, shocked by the despair, the sadness that he saw in them. He willed himself not to notice the ache in his chest so that he could focus on her.
You can fix it, he told himself desperately, hoping against hope that this was actually true.
She knew that she'd gotten lost in her thoughts for a few minutes there, and despite the urge to sit up, to put distance between them for her own safety, she stayed right where she was, immobilized by the fact that they were suddenly staring into each other's eyes. It was obvious just from looking at him that he was worried about her. After the scene she'd made last night – which she only remembered in fuzzy bits and pieces – she supposed she'd just given him a new reason to be worried about her.
Perfect, she thought sarcastically to herself. How had she forgotten that going to Pennsylvania with him for the weekend would mean that he was going to witness her nightmares? She wondered if she still would have agreed to go if she had thought about it, if he now regretted offering to bring her along… Now that he knew. He'd barely slept because of her, after all. In any case, it didn't really matter now what she would have done or not done. That cat was out of the bag, so to speak.
He smiled at her sadly, suddenly at a loss for what to do or say. What if I can't fix it, all the things I allowed to get broken in her? he thought miserably. At that moment, it seemed impossible that he could actually help her, and he couldn't help but wonder if she would be better off without him.
No, he corrected himself before he even allowed the thought to finish forming. You know Jane, and you know that without you here, it would be worse. That's not your ego talking, that's a fact. Look at her. You're the only one she ever opened up to. If she's not opening up to you, she's not opening up to anyone. After everything she's been through, she needs you. Just remember that. She may or may not even know it, but she does. And yes, she needs you even more because of… He couldn't even bear to say the words in his head. She needed him more because of all the horrible things that had happened to her because of him. Not only because of him, maybe, but because of him nonetheless.
She needs you more because of all of it. You're not allowed to fail her again. Not because she said so, because you said so.
"Hey," he whispered near her ear. She could hear the relief in his voice, and it made her smile just a little. Part of her insisted that it was ridiculous to doubt how he felt about her, but after everything that had happened, how could she not? The evidence was there, months of it, in the form of disdainful looks and overheard conversations and simply silence, where he had acted as though she didn't exist. She had wished so many times that she didn't exist. It would have been so much easier for everyone, after all.
But then the other part of her insisted once again that he did care, and the evidence was quite literally staring her in the face. Piercing blue eyes that were looking at her insistently, worriedly, that belonged to the man who had just pulled her back out of the abyss of her thoughts just by saying her name. His words held that much power over her, more than they should, perhaps, but that was how it was, how it had been.
The two warring factions in her mind, which could be divided, she supposed, into her head and her heart, continued to battle – her head insisting that she couldn't possibly believe that he cared about her and her heart insisting that she couldn't possibly believe that he didn't. Both had compelling evidence. It was as though somehow her head and her heart had just suddenly stopped communicating, and it was making her panic.
"Are you okay?" he asked her. He felt like that was all he ever said to her, and it sounded weak and ineffectual in his ears. Can't you think of anything better than that? he asked himself, a little bit desperately. I wonder if she's getting as tired of me asking her that question constantly as I am. But how could he not ask? After all, that was all he wanted… for her to be okay. Even if she hated him, even if she wanted nothing to do with him, if she was alright, that would be enough for him.
Yeah, right, the voice in his head replied sarcastically. You know very well that that wouldn't be enough. He'd have to deal with that voice later, because right now he was focused on Jane.
"Yeah, I… I think so." There was a weak smile on her face for a few seconds, but it vanished again. "I guess I downplayed the nightmares a little bit yesterday… Sorry. I.." She sighed heavily, looking away for a second, then back at him. "I didn't mean to wake you up last night." She felt like she should be able to come up with something better to say, but she couldn't, so she pushed the words out the best she could.
"No, you didn't wake me… wait… what?" He looked at her in shock, shaking his head. "No, Jane, don't apologize." If she didn't know better, she'd have said that he sounded almost offended. The pained look took over his face again, the one he got when he was thinking about how he'd failed her – she could already recognize it. He took a breath, looked back up at her and started again. "I was just worried about you last night. I'm worried about you now. You seemed really scared. Distraught."
"I was," she said quietly, her eyes now focused on his shirt, straight in front of her so that she wouldn't have to meet his eyes, "and then when I finally woke up, after the nightmare, at first, I didn't know where I was. I slept out here because it was more familiar, and… closer to… uh…" She felt herself blushing bright red, realizing what she had just almost said, and attempted to continue on as if nothing had happened. "…but I just…" Despite a valiant effort to keep talking, her voice broke then, and she was no longer able to string her words together into a sentence. So she stopped talking and just looked back up at him for a minute. When her brain could process her thoughts again, she added sadly, "I thought that would help, being somewhere I recognized, but it didn't. Not really."
He nodded solemnly, and just when he was going to say something reassuring, she looked back down at the same spot on his shirt, so that once again, she didn't have to look into his eyes, and added, her voice shaking slightly, "I'm not sure that I'm going to be very good company this weekend. It's okay if you want to change your mind."
How can she do this to herself? he wondered. She's been doing it for months, ever since she came back. How can she constantly and insistently ignore what she obviously needs so desperately, thinking only of how she can make things easier for other people? People who've been unrelentingly horrible to her at that.
Easy, the voice in his head replied quickly. She convinced herself – or the CIA, Keaton, convinced her – that she's worthless. That she's not even a human being. And it obviously stuck.
The tragedy of this thought only made him more determined than ever to hold onto her tightly. Of course, it was her decision whether or not she wanted to come along. "What? Jane… No. It doesn't change anything. I know you don't believe me, but I want to help you…" He stopped, once again at a loss. How in the world could he even begin to convince her that he cared after months of giving her nothing but evidence to the contrary? He closed his eyes for a minute, feeling lower than low once again. He focused simply on breathing, trying to remain calm, then opened his eyes again and looked at her, hoping he didn't look as desperate as he suddenly felt.
"Do you not want to come with me, Jane? Because it's up to you, of course," he said, in a much calmer voice than how he actually felt. He held his breath as he waited for her answer, hoping that she wouldn't change her mind. Not now.
"It's not that," she replied, feeling almost frantic at just the thought of being stuck in her safe house alone for the long holiday weekend after the pure elation of knowing that she wouldn't have to do just that. "I just… You don't need to deal with all of this from me," she continued, her voice growing quieter with each word. "No one should have to."
Once again, the look on his face surprised her – he looked baffled. He stared at her, his mouth hanging open, for a full minute before he could bring himself to speak. "You don't get it, do you?" he asked quietly. "I'm not 'dealing with you.' I'm worried about you. Making sure you're okay isn't a chore to me. It's something I want to do – something I need to do–"
"Because it's your job," she interrupted. The words came out with far more spite than she'd intended them to… but then again, it was the truth, wasn't it? "You've been doing your job the last few months, right? I'm alive, aren't I? Thanks for all the help with that, by the way." That had been a low blow, she knew, and it took seeing the look on his face before she realized the impact of what she'd said.
He was stunned for a second, but started shaking his head immediately, willing himself to find the right words. Obviously, so far this wasn't coming out the way he wanted it to.
"Jane, no… because I care about you. Because you're important to me." He watched as an angry fire flared in her eyes, and he couldn't figure out what he'd just said wrong, because it was obvious she didn't believe him, that he'd just made it worse.
She heard the words, but didn't know how to react. For a few seconds, her mind was simply frozen. How could she process something like that? What he was saying went against everything she'd thought she'd known, everything she'd told herself to help her keep everyone at bay, and everything that his behavior, even as recently as yesterday, for God's sake, had indicated…
And yet, the fact that they'd come as far as they had in the past twenty four hours told her that she already knew that he was being sincere. If you didn't trust him enough to believe what he's saying, then why the hell are you here? she demanded of herself.
Suddenly, she felt herself getting angry. Since when did he care about me that much? Why had he only started treating her like a human being yesterday, if she was so damn important to him? That kind of devotion sure would have been nice back when—
Stop it, she ordered her mind. Stop it right now. You're alive, and he's alive. Both of you could have died not too long ago, but you didn't. You escaped from hell. Escaped. You were damn lucky to get out of there, and you have every right to be angry… But that doesn't give you the exclusive right to moral indignation. You're not any more innocent in this than he is, and you're probably a hell of a lot guiltier. Whatever happened, happened. Either just get over it, or walk away right now, because it's not fair to hold it over his head. He feels like dirt right now. So either accept that the things that he's saying are really how he feels about you, or just get up and leave. But don't sit around torturing him – that makes you not all that different from Keaton.
That thought – comparing herself to Keaton – took her breath away, and for a second, she felt like she'd been punched in the stomach, hard. I would never… she thought.
Without warning, she was suddenly pulled back out of her head by Kurt's whispered voice. It was different this time, more desperate than she'd ever heard him before, and when she looked up, she saw a look in his eyes was just as distraught as his voice.
"Jane… I know… That you have no reason to… I don't know how to…" He was shaking his head, but at what? His own thoughts, maybe, she decided, as jumbled as they seemed to be. Finally, he looked away from her. "I've already failed you once… I won't…" His voice broke then, and he paused to take a breath before he continued. "I won't do it again." Now it was his turn to be unable to look in her eyes, while hers searched his face, still confused.
The angry side of her mind had popped up out of nowhere, and it had disappeared just as quickly, leaving only echoes of the words lingering in their wake. Looking at him now, it almost was as if they had somehow suddenly had their roles reversed, because where she had only seconds ago felt a flare of anger and bitterness, now she felt the need to comfort him.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly, making sure that her voice was calm. "I didn't mean to snap at you. I just…" She sighed heavily, trying to find the words to explain how she felt. "It's hard to believe I could be important to you at all, which less that much. Up until yesterday we…" She shook her head sadly, feeling tears building behind her eyes again. She was so tired. She could deal with being physically tired, but this was different. Emotionally, she was beyond tired, and at that moment she didn't feel like she had anything left – not for him or for anyone. Not even for herself.
He sighed heavily, and she swore she could hear sadness in just his release of air, if that was possible. It was all over his face as well. "I can't explain it. I want to, but I don't even understand it myself," he said tiredly. "I look back on the way I've acted since… that night… and I remember it, but I feel like it wasn't me." She nodded, but said nothing, knowing that he wasn't finished. "I was so…" He closed his eyes, trying to find the words.
"I was so angry. At you, at my father, at myself, at the world… But my father was dead, and it was easier to be angry with you than to share the blame myself…" Shaking his head sadly, he continued. "I told myself that I hated you. I thought I did hate you. Or maybe I really did… I hated everything and everyone… But it was easier to hate you."
Even though she already knew this, and that, looking at it from his perspective, it wasn't completely unjustified, given everything that had happened, it still stung. She nodded, fighting hard against the urge to withdraw from him, and felt the familiar numbness descend over her like a cold, wet blanket, felt her walls quickly rebuild themselves. It was amazing how fast she suddenly felt the way she had for all of those months once again, even laying there beside Kurt, even hearing him say it all in the past tense. She deserved it, she knew. This was why it was just so much easier not to let herself feel any of it…
"I should have let you explain it all, that night," he continued. "I know that now. I was just… I snapped. It doesn't excuse it, I just… And then, after the CIA took you, I lost the chance to even talk to you and…" He shook his head slowly, as if doing that would dislodge the memories. He didn't want to remember this part, but he forced himself to. After all, it wasn't as though she could just choose to forget what they'd done to her, so the least he could do was not be a coward about it.
"When we got you back, I wanted to let it go, but I didn't know how. Even after you told us everything… I needed to let it go. I just…" He remembered telling Zapata that he didn't want to be in the same room as Jane, and then realizing that Jane had overheard him… He remembered that that day, it had made him feel satisfaction and sick to his stomach all at once. Now, he just felt like the very worst, most insensitive, heartless person in the world.
"It was easier to keep acting the same way I'd been acting. It was easier to keep telling myself that what you'd done was unforgiveable, than to admit to myself that I wanted to forgive you, and even more than that, to forgive myself for not finding Taylor, because it shouldn't all be connected to you, but it is…" She hadn't expected that, and she blinked in surprise. Taylor was yet another sensitive subject between the two of them. It seemed like everything was a sensitive subject between them.
"And as far as what happened to you… The more I think about it, the more I know that I'll never forgive myself for that…" He stopped, and focused on her for the first time in several minutes, his expression one of absolute sincerity. "To you, I know, all this seems like it came out of nowhere. But to me… even though I didn't even realize it until now… I think it was a long time coming. I didn't know how to…"
He stopped and squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head yet again as he continued speaking. "I wish I'd done better along the way. I really do. You deserve so much better than all of this… than me…" He stopped, unable to continue. As his eyes finally opened slowly, he expected to see disgust on her face. After all, that was what he deserved.
She watched him silently, stunned, and swore she saw his eyes watering. What could she say after something like that? She had absolutely no idea. She didn't know anything anymore.
All this time that they'd been talking, ever since she'd woken up and found herself on the couch with him, she'd been turned part of the way around to look at him, her back still pressed gently against the front of him. Now she turned all the way around onto her right side, even though this position pushed her farther toward the edge of the couch. His hands hadn't moved, and even after everything they'd both said, his hands were still clasped just as securely, now behind her back – if not more so. He was holding onto her, keeping her from falling backwards onto the floor, and it seemed like there was something very fitting about that – since he was figuratively doing the same thing.
Sighing quietly, she looked into his eyes, which were still focused on her. Neither of them smiled, but neither of them frowned, either. If she had to guess, not being able to see her own expression, she was pretty sure that the two of them probably looked equally distraught equally lost. For several minutes they stayed still, just like that, watching each other and not knowing what to do or say next.
Just when he started to feel like his disaster of a confession, or speech, or whatever it had been, had ruined everything, she slowly began wiggling her way up toward the end of the couch so their heads were almost even. He watched her curiously as she simply leaned forward, resting her forehead against his, and closing her eyes.
"I don't know how to do this," she said in a shaky whisper. "Any of it."
"I know," he replied tiredly. "I don't know either. But that's okay. Just keep doing it…"
"I don't know if I can," she whispered, her voice breaking, as she tried her best to ignore the feeling of desperation building inside her. She didn't even know what she was talking about anymore, what this 'it' was that she didn't know how to do. Maybe it was just everything, just her life. After all, she'd certainly made the biggest possible mess of that…
She felt him shake his head gently against her forehead, pushing hers from side to side slightly. For some reason, the movement made her smile just a little. "You can," he said quickly, "We can. Okay?"
"Okay," she replied, almost too quietly for him to hear. She was simply too tired to argue… She needed something…
You need him, the voice in her head said. You always have.
With that, he pulled her closer to him with his right arm, bringing it up to her shoulders and lifting her slightly off of the couch, so that his left arm, which she'd been lying on, was free to move as well. That arm also came up to shoulder level, and then he set her back down against it, and against the couch, now holding on fiercely to her, his arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders.
I'm going to fix it, he thought with renewed determination.
She was so tired… in every way that it was possible to be tired. And yet, it was already morning, and she knew that they couldn't stay like this – even though she wouldn't have minded. She would have to get through the day somehow, even though she didn't even feel strong enough to sit up… I'll just close my eyes for a minute, she told herself, and then quickly fell back to sleep. Her last fleeting thought as she did was that it didn't matter that it didn't make sense – However it had happened, for once she actually felt safe.
When he realized that she'd fallen back to sleep he couldn't help but smile, despite how completely drained he felt. She has the right idea, she thought, even though he knew that falling asleep hadn't been something that she'd done consciously. She hadn't slept the night before, not really, and their discussions so far had been… to call them intense was an understatement. He wondered if it would be as simple for him to fall asleep, if he were to close his eyes for a few minutes, too… So he decided to try it. Why not?
For a few minutes, he lay awake, simply breathing in the sensations of where he was and the fact that he was with Jane. The rest of it – everything that had happened between them – it all simply melted away, until there was only that moment, where Jane lay asleep and he held onto her tightly. As much as the rest of it mattered, really, it didn't. At least not now. Before he knew it, he was asleep as well.
Jane woke up what felt like a few minutes later, this time remembering exactly where she was. Even before she moved a muscle, she just lay still and enjoyed the feeling of waking with Kurt so close to her, of his arms around her – not quite as tightly now, since from the sound of him, he had fallen back to sleep, too. She could say one thing for that pair of strong arms of his – when he was asleep, they were heavy, and she knew that she couldn't have moved if she'd wanted to.
Good thing I don't want to, she thought with a smile, finally allowing her eyelids to flutter open. She found his face immediately in front of hers, their foreheads still leaned together, and she couldn't help but smile tiredly. There had already been far too much overthinking, and her mind was exhausted, so she just lay and looked at him and thought about how happy she felt at that exact moment, nothing else.
It wasn't too long before he stirred. She knew the moment he began to wake up, because his arms tightened around her once again, and she felt his forehead lean into hers a little harder, as if it also wanted to participate in the hug. When he opened his eyes, she saw so many things. Exhaustion. Worry. Happiness. Regret. And so many others that she simply couldn't separate from each other. Her chest ached, and she wasn't sure if it was from happiness or sadness, but it almost didn't matter. The fact that she didn't feel numb was a welcome relief.
He was amused to see that she'd been watching him when he opened his eyes, awake before him once again. This time, there was a sense of peace on her face that hadn't been there before. Or maybe it was more exhaustion than peace, or maybe just a mix of both. In any case, she didn't look panicked, and for this he was truly grateful.
"Good morning," he whispered, leaning forward just enough that the tip of his nose touched the tip of hers.
"Good morning," she whispered back, her smile holding steady. This was much better than the first try at waking up, almost like a successful 'do-over.' She couldn't tear her eyes away from him, and what's more, she saw no reason to try.
"Did you sleep better this time around?" he asked, watching her steadily.
"Much better," she whispered, almost afraid to break the spell that she was sure was surrounding them just then.
"Good," he replied just as quietly. "Can you see what time it is?" he asked, thought immediately regretting it when she turned her head the other direction and her forehead was no longer pressed against his.
"Nine fifteen," she said, turning back around and, to his surprise, pressing her forehead and her nose right back where they'd been, against his. "That's better," she murmured as she settled back in against him.
"We need to get up," he mumbled, making no more move to get up than he had when he'd said it the night before. After a pause, during which she thought that maybe if she stayed quiet, he'd forget about the idea of getting up, he realized exactly what she was doing. So he tried another approach. "Are you hungry?" he asked.
"No," she replied before she realized what she was saying, and that he was going to make her eat regardless.
"Well that's too bad, because it's time for breakfast," he told her with a grin, their faces still pressed together. She shook her head sheepishly, now making his forehead move slightly with the movement of hers, and rolling her eyes. The look on his face was quite insistent, and she knew that he wouldn't be taking no for an answer. This was his new "Make Jane Eat" campaign, and she wasn't even going to try to argue. Besides, it felt nice to know that he cared enough to make sure she was taken care of. Though it was terrifying if she let herself think about just how much she liked the feeling, just then she refused to think about it that hard, and simply stuck with enjoying it.
"I'm not against breakfast, I'd even be willing to eat it," she replied jokingly, hoping that he understood what she was saying. I've barely fed myself for months but I'm willing to eat, because you're telling me to, but… "I just don't want to move… You know… ever," she lamented.
His laughter at her words was music to her ears, and for a few seconds he squeezed his arms around her shoulders even tighter. "Not an option," he whispered, moving just enough to rub their noses together, before slowly leaning back away from her. He released her reluctantly, gently unlocking his hands from behind her back so that she had no choice but to change positions, to turn partway around and sit up, her back once again facing him, just to avoid falling backwards onto the floor. She started to move closer to him, but he somehow managed to sit up before she leaned back against him, so that they were now sitting beside each other.
"You want to go take a shower while I make you some breakfast?" he asked, sitting an inch away from her and feeling like the gap between them was a mile wide.
"Since I'm up, I guess I may as well," she sighed, pretending to pout. He just smiled at her for a few seconds and then stood up, forcing himself to walk across the room, away from her, against his will.
Looking back and seeing her still sitting there, watching him, he called, "Hey, get moving! We're already late!" His words were impatient, but he grinned happily and his tone was warm. Yes, they needed to get moving, but it wasn't an all day trip, so they should still be fine.
Finally standing up, she walked across the room to her bag, taking out her change of clothes and the toiletries that she needed, realizing for the first time that she was still wearing his NYC sweatshirt. Looking down at it, she couldn't help but smile.
I shouldn't like any of this so much, she told herself. But I don't care… I really do like it.
At that moment, that was enough.
