April
Dinner ends in small talk and silence. We politely congratulate the other on their job offer, but neither of us says what we were really thinking. What does this mean? What happens to us?
At the end of the night, Jackson walks me to my door, and I unlock it and step inside, holding it open for him to follow. We didn't talk about him coming over after dinner, but he always does, so it is a natural reaction on my part to expect it tonight. For the first time, though, I see him hesitate, unsure of whether he should stay or whether I want him to. I stand there with the door held open, waiting for him, and finally, he offers me a half smile and walks through the doorway.
I hang my keys on the hook by the door before walking down the hall to my bedroom, feeling him follow quietly behind me. He closes the door behind us as I cross the room and sit down on my bed with a sigh.
I feel his eyes on me, but I stare down at my hands folded in my lap. "I guess we should talk about this," I say quietly.
I feel the bed shift as he sinks down beside me. "April-" he begins, but I cut him off.
"I get it, Jackson. This is an amazing opportunity for you. Head of Plastics and a spot on the board? Not to mention you get to go home. I know how much you love Boston. I would never, ever ask you to give that up. But I can't give up my opportunity either. When I transferred to Seattle Grace, I wasn't even sure they would keep me on as a surgeon, and now they are offering me my own department. Jackson, that is something I can't walk away from. You are used to recognition, but I'm not. I have to work twice as hard and twice as long to even get people to remember my name. But this time, they picked me first. They saw my talent and potential, and they picked me."
I brace myself for his response, knowing he will probably be hurt, angry maybe. I understand if he is. I love him with everything I have, but this may be an obstacle we can't overcome.
"I get it," he says quietly, "and you deserve this. You said you wouldn't ask me to give up my job in Boston, and April, I wouldn't ask you to give up yours either. But I also don't want to lose you. I told you that I am in love with you, and I meant it. I can't imagine my life without you in it. So, I think we can do this. You can be the Chief of Trauma at Seattle Grace, and I can run Plastics in Boston, and we will talk every day and take turns flying to see each other. We can do this, April. We love each other enough to make this work." He looks so hopeful and optimistic that we are strong enough to make a long-distance relationship work, and when he says it with such confidence, I let myself believe him. We can do this.
"Okay," I whisper.
"Yeah? You think we can do this?" he asks.
"Of course, we can. You said it yourself. We love each other more than anything, and we will make it work," I say happily taking his face in my hands and kissing him softly. I pull back to look at him, studying his face with wonder at how lucky I am. "When do you have to leave?"
His face falls slightly, "Soon," he says, and I hear the sadness in his voice, "Probably within the week."
I am overwhelmed with emotion. My heart skips back and forth between the joy of our upcoming opportunities and heartbreak at the idea of being across the country from the love of my life. A single tear falls down my cheek, and I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out.
He brushes the tear from my face with his thumb, and I see my pain reflected in his eyes. "What is it?" he asks.
My head is shouting, "I'm sorry," "I love you," "I'm going to miss you," "Please don't leave," but nothing can adequately express what I am feeling. Yet I need him to know. I need him to understand how much he means to me. My fingers trace across his forehead wanting to memorize every crease, every line, every inch of his face. He looks at me curiously, wondering what I must be thinking. So, I show him. I stand in front of him, and without explanation, reach my arms behind me to unzip the dress I carefully chose to wear for him tonight. The shoulders straps are looser now, and I slide them the rest of the way off my shoulders, letting the dress slide down my waist and fall to the floor, just as it did the night I first gave myself to him.
I take a step closer to Jackson and his fingers glide up the outside of my thighs to rest on my hips, sending a rush of warmth throughout my entire body. He watches as I drop my bra and panties to the floor, and then I run my hands up his arms and rest them on his shoulders, focusing on the perfect way his shirt hugs his body. I take my time unbuttoning his shirt, revealing more of his chest as I work my way down. As I reach his waist, he takes over, untucking his shirt from his pants and pulling it over his head without bothering with the rest of the buttons. His eyes find mine and for a moment, we just hold each other there in that space, knowing what the other needs.
Then, he stands, our bodies close enough to feel the want between us. Looking up at him, I only feel loved. No fear of the future, just loved by him. He presses his lips to my forehead and I close my eyes, wanting this moment to last forever. He bends, lifting me into his arms, and I wrap my legs around him feeling as if I am exactly where I belong. He walks me around the bed, laying me down gently. I watch him unbuckle his belt and toss it on the floor along with his pants and boxers. He knows how incredible he looks standing over me in the dim light of my room, but that doesn't stop him from asking me, "What are you smiling about?"
I giggle, and feel my face blush with heat. "You."
"Me?" he asks flirtatiously, crawling on to the bed to hover over me, "What about me?"
"This," I say and lean up to kiss his chest, "and this," I move my hands around his back and grab his ass, making him laugh and shake his head, "but most of all, this," I say, wrapping my hand around his already hard erection.
"Jesus, April," he whispers, closing his eyes briefly before kissing me deeply, as I continue to caress him with my hands. He presses his mouth to my neck before kissing down my chest and across the rise of my breasts. Then I feel his hand on mine, stopping my movements and pulling away.
Confused, I ask him, "Did I do something wrong?"
"God, no. You are doing everything right. But I doubt you want me to come in your hand, and that was about to happen," he explains, smiling up at me, and I understand why he stopped me.
"You can come wherever you want, Jackson," I tell him, "We have all night." I grab his arms and pull him up so he is eye level with me, spreading my legs for him, so he can position himself in between them. I grip his hips and pull him down to me, pressing my own hips up against him, no longer wanting to wait. The warmth between my legs is waiting for him with a pulsing need. I see the surprise on his face, but all I want is our connection to be complete. He is my partner in every way, and I need to feel him complete me physically, a reminder that we will not lose each other. I nod, reassuring him that this is exactly what I want, and he pushes inside me, filling me both physically and emotionally.
Our bodies move together as they always do, in perfect rhythm knowing just what the other needs until we reach our climax together, him inside me and me around him, connected completely as we should be. The night continues that way, over and over again, both of us reassuring each other's insecurities about the future and love for each other with our bodies instead of words, until the sun begins to rise, and we drift off to sleep in each other's arms ready for whatever comes next.
