Disclaimer: All things Twi belong to SM and all things Whedon belong to Him.

"You know…" Edward slowly climbed onto the bed and up toward me. "I don't really have a specific lesson to teach you. I just wanted to get you on your back."

I grinned and stifled a giggle; I didn't want his parents to hear us.

"And between your legs." He continued the soft lilt of his teasing words as he settled down right where he said he wanted to be. "Such gorgeous legs, Róisín."

Every guy I ever knew who was interested in pussy, including gay-as-a-picnic-basket Riley, had said similar things to me—dirty things that were probably meant to be playful but ended up sounding like something out of a porno, not sweetdirty like Edward sounded.

He dropped a light whisper of a kiss to my lips and propped himself on one elbow, weaving his other hand into my hair. I spread open wider to accommodate him, feeling warm and snug, my legs wrapped around him in a tight embrace.

"You teach me something new every day," I said, smiling and purring into his touch.

He hummed and kissed and caressed, nipped and licked. His eyes were soft when he pulled back to look me in the face, and his body was hard. He slowly thrust against me and I felt my blood heat and pump rapidly through my veins and heart.

I groaned and thrust up to meet him, but he rolled his hips away from where I wanted him, teasing me, not letting me have him the exact way I wanted. He bit his lip to stop the mischievous smirk, but his teeth couldn't stop a chuckle emitting from his nose and mouth. He dropped his head to the crook in my neck and ran his lips along my throat.

I moaned, letting my hips rise and fall in time with his, wanting him inside me, squeezing him with my thighs and stroking his back and arms, feeling the colors and patterns under my fingers.

"Please…"

"You don't have to beg," he whispered, kissing my skin and shifting his weight. "I'll give you anything you want; all you have to do is ask."

When his lips met mine, he slipped inside, low and light, exquisitely gliding along the edges of my sanity. He kept kissing me as he deliberately gripped my hip. He kept kissing me when he quietly pushed himself up to reach across the bed to the condom at our side.

His eyes didn't leave mine as he tore the foil wrapper open with his teeth and one hand. He was pinning me with his stare and the gentle abrasion of his cock just inside. When he reached down between us, I felt my face contort in frustration because I knew he was going to pull out, and I couldn't bear it.

"Don't," I gasped.

His brow furrowed, his eyes lit, and he grit his teeth—that intensity of his that was always right at the forefront but never in your face, hanging thickly between us like a sticky mist, holding us together. He didn't stop staring and he didn't stop slipping in and out of me. He kept the thin, slick, agonizing pace.

"Are you gonna come?" His breath and voice rasped in the air.

I nodded frantically and breathed just as heavily, rolling my eyes in the back of my head and opening my legs a little wider with my hands at my knees. I felt his hand drop heavily next to my hip on the mattress and his forehead met mine with a huff of air.

"Fuck," he whispered, strained and edgy, barely holding on, swimming in the shallow end. "Come on…"

His restrained energy, the subdued power of his body and thrusts, were fine-tuned into an acute pinpoint of unimaginable bliss. I lay spread before him, open and vulnerable, coming harder and longer than I ever had in my life.

~DL~

"Eggs Benedict, Rosalie?"

I had never disliked my name so much as when Caroline Cullen said it. And she just wouldn't stop saying it. She hadn't uttered one sentence to me in the 45 minutes (and her two mimosas) we'd spent together without saying RRRozzzalieeee to distinctly address me. She placed an inordinate amount of emphasis on the R and slurred over the S, making it sound especially Z-y, then pulling it all up at the end with a particularly sharp rise of the E. It made my skin crawl.

I nodded my head, though, because, why should I deny her offer of delicious hollandaise just because she's a judgmental bitch? Although, I did make a firm decision to cut back on the champagne so the bitch comments didn't unintentionally spill out of my mouth.

I felt Edward's hand on my knee as I pushed my flute to the side. When I looked him in the eye, images and feelings from the previous night of him touching me in other, more intimate ways floated through my mind.

I was breathless and sweating from coming. I realized he was rolling a condom on, then guiding himself all the way inside me. He dropped to his elbows with a sigh and hovered above me momentarily before he began to thrust in earnest.

"So good," he muttered. "You feel so good right after you've come. You always feel good."

He looked so beautiful above me; his decorated arms and shoulders were tense and flexing and his face was flushed and full of passion. He threw his head back and his mouth was open wide, smiling and infectious. I hugged him with my legs and ran my hands over his chest and abs as he thrust and throbbed inside me.

"Well, at least she has a healthy appetite," his mother muttered under her breath, bringing me out of a daydream about the things that her son did to my body with his. Then I realized she was doing that backhanded compliment thing that the bitchiest of bitches have down pat.

"Yes, Mrs. Cullen," I said, grabbing my recently abandoned beverage, since what I was about to say wouldn't change a bit no matter how much I had to drink. "I do have a healthy appetite. Your son certainly seems to appreciate it."

She and I locked eyes. The comment garnered me an expression of disgust from her, an arched brow from her husband, and a near-miss Bloody Mary shower from Edward since he was innocently enjoying his beverage at the time.

Edward's cousins had enlightened me to how his mother had bullied her sons and husband through the years. They'd told me how terrified they'd all been of her and how she'd intimidated every girl the boys had dated. While I found her quite rude, she didn't intimidate me.

"Well," she said. "That's… sweet."

I smiled sweetly and Edward cleared his throat. I looked at him to see that he was grateful, amused, and maybe even a little turned on.

"Yes, it is," Edward agreed with a grin and a squeeze of my thigh. "I'd like a little more Benedict, too, Mom."

Edward's mom served him more eggs. I thought about what Esme had said about her—that she was difficult, but deep down, she just really loved her sons. I held that in my mind to help get me through the rest of the meal.

The remainder of brunch was awkward for me for a lot of reasons—not least of which was I couldn't stop thinking about the night before in Edward's bedroom. I could not even imagine what his mother would think if she had known what we were doing, or if she'd heard us, but the images and feelings were so powerful that I couldn't avoid them.

My mind warred with those thoughts of pleasure and triumph—we'd enjoyed and celebrated each other so fully, and without apprehension, something I'd never ever done with anyone—and thoughts of Edward's hostile relationship with his parents. Still, while it hurt my heart that Edward was in a less than ideal place with his mom and dad, it warmed my heart that he stuck by my side through his mother's criticisms and his father's apathy; never once did he try to side with her or fade into bland ennui with him.

"I wanna take you to the pizza place where I used to work," Edward mumbled into my neck as his hands fumbled under my t-shirt.

We had finally lost his parents somewhere between mimosas and Irish coffee, and were making out in the kitchen pantry in the back of the house.

"Right now?" I asked. "And, why are we making out in the pantry, by the way? Your mother's gonna kill me if she finds us here."

"Like my mother ever comes to the kitchen." Edward snorted. "Yes, right now. I'm hungry. We'll take a cab. You like pizza, right?"

"Of course I like pizza, but we had it last night…" I sighed with his lips against my skin. "Also, your mom must come to the kitchen sometimes; you told me she bakes those awesome cookies."

I pulled away from him a little bit to get his attention. I didn't want to have a therapy session over Mommy and Daddy, but I also didn't want him pretending that she was something she wasn't. I couldn't solve his problems, he'd have to do that on his own, but I sure as hell wasn't going to sit back and watch him lie to himself about them.

He chuckled lightly. "Boy, you don't forget a thing, do you?" He looked embarrassed.

"Do you expect me not to remember you talking about baked goods?" I teased.

He sighed and slouched against the wall, rubbing his forehead. I didn't know what the barrier was with his parents—typical rebellion, miscommunication, resentment over past misunderstandings that were yet unresolved—but regardless, Edward loved and honored his parents; otherwise he wouldn't think it necessary to bring me to meet them. I wanted him to try and remember the good things.

"Okay, you got me," he mumbled and grinned shyly. "She's not terrible."

"Wow, you're so generous!" I said, smoothing the placard and straightening the cuffed sleeves of his shirt, tickling the ink on his forearms. "She can't be too bad. She was partly responsible for creating you and Carlisle, right?"

I understood having a difficult time with your mother. I understood it well, but I hated to see Edward beat himself up over her misgivings.

He nodded in acquiescence and that look was back—the one that told me he was thankful and kind of turned on. Then he pushed himself away from the wall and tugged at my wrist.

"Come eat pizza with me," he grinned. "We'll make out in the cab on the way there."

I grinned and felt a flush cover my face, neck, and chest. I was hungry, too; even though we'd had a large brunch, Edward and I had been doing a lot to work up our appetites.

"Okay." My voice broke when I giggled at his giddy enthusiasm to show me his favorite pizza place.

Edward called a cab and I grabbed my bag on the way out the door. We didn't actually make out in the cab on the way there, but we remained playful, until I hit another sore spot.

"Who was the red headed guy you were talking to last night?"

"Who, Liam?" Edward was perplexed.

"I didn't catch his name, but Kate mentioned she was surprised you were talking to him..."

I remembered the other cousins' reactions and judging by Edward's current reaction, I probably should have never brought it up. But there it was.

"She did, huh?" Edward turned to face the front of the cab and clenched his jaw.

"Yeah, but... no one made a big deal," I lied. "I just wondered..."

I wanted to kick myself for poking at him again. It was like Dr. Inara had possessed me and I was trying to uncover all of his scars and bruises in one fell swoop.

"He's Siobhan's boyfriend," Edward answered. "And her dealer."

His tone reminded me of the night we had dinner at Carlisle and Esme's. The night he told me about rescuing Masen from a coke dealer. Everything started to fall into place in my head as the tension in the car started to rise.

"Oh," was all I could muster, my mind spinning for something sensitive or compassionate to say.

"I mean, what? Am I supposed to make a scene when I see him?" Edward asked, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, making his hands into fists. "Siobhan isn't exactly my business anymore."

"It's okay, Edward." I started to backtrack because I realized I had stumbled ungracefully into something that wouldn't be as easy to get out of as the discussion about Edward's parents. But I wasn't sure how to stop the landslide. "I shouldn't have said-"

"No, Kate, shouldn't have said anything."

He was livid and his eyes were on fire. It was so easy for me to forget Edward's temper when he was so gentle with me and touching me and making me feel cherished. Yet his intensity was always there and all he had to do was flip a switch. Right then, every ounce of passion that I was used to enjoying was spilling out like bile.

"She should mind her own fucking business, but she never does," he continued to rant about Kate. "She's still pissed that I sided with Siobhan... and, fuck, what was I supposed to do then?"

He looked to me as if I could answer, as if I knew the details. Not that I needed to know the details; I could imagine the struggle he went through trying to defend the woman he loved and the pain it caused his family and friends. He was furious and heartbroken and almost pleading with me for an answer, but I didn't say a word; I just gave him my hand.

"And now she wants me to do what?" He ignored my offered hand, so I rested it on his thigh. "Beat Liam's ass over my pride? If I didn't beat his ass for selling to Siobhan while we were together, I'm not gonna beat his ass now. I'm not stupid or crazy enough to get myself thrown in jail over some piece of shit drug dealer."

He cocked his jaw and turned his head, staring out the window, breathing heavy. He closed his eyes and started the rhythmic breathing that I was familiar with using to calm my own anxiety.

Thrown in jail?

Edward was a black belt, a deadly weapon. He'd drop that guy in one second flat. And then he'd be in jail.

Shit.

His restraint with Liam had been niggling in my brain since Kate mentioned it. He seemed so in control, which didn't jive with the guy I'd met so many weeks ago—the guy who was all pissed off about drug dealers and rescue dogs and who called me a party girl and wasn't surprised that I didn't spend a lot of time in computer labs.

That guy had a clear vision of what he thought was right and wrong. That guy was a crusader. That guy was sitting in the back of a cab with me, seething with anger and grief over the wrong that was done to a loved one and the despondency it caused his family. He held back because he knew his physical actions would simply cause more of the same.

"I wasn't trying to piss you off," I said, pulling my hand from his thigh, but staying close to his side. "Or hurt you, so, I'm sorry, but don't pull away from me."

The feeling of disappointing or alienating someone was so familiar to me and my usual reaction was to apologize and make it right. And while I honestly did not intend to disrespect him in any way, I also wasn't about to fall back into my old habits of kissing his ass just to make peace. I wanted him to know I was sorry, but I needed him to know I wasn't going to back away from what I thought was right for him and me.

He shook his head and looked down into his lap.

"I know you weren't," he replied, reaching for my hand. "I have a little... temper, so... I'm sorry about that. You didn't deserve that."

He looked me in the eye, contrite, squeezing my hand. "I'm sorry," he apologized a second time, and I could tell that he meant it. He was sorry that he'd overreacted and that he'd hurt my feelings, and he was sorry for making me mad.

"Me too," I reiterated, then leaned over to kiss his lips, lingering for a moment. "And I accept your apology."

"I accept yours, too," he responded before claiming my mouth more aggressively, sinking a hand into my hair and pulling me closer to his side..

~DL~

We left early on Tuesday morning and drove straight through to Brockport, taking turns at the wheel and with Masen at rest stops. The trip back was uneventful, considering everything that had happened on the way to, and while we were in, Chicago. As a matter of fact, it was almost boring.

As Edward dozed in the passenger seat and I drove across Ohio, I glanced periodically at his face, brow crumpled, and arms crossed over his chest. The events of the past few days had made an enormous impact on our relationship. I'd met his family and friends, we'd had the best sex I'd ever had in my life, and Edward had revealed a side of himself I knew existed but that I didn't see very often. It seemed that he worked hard to keep that side of himself under control, for which I was grateful, but I was also concerned he wasn't being honest or fair with himself.

Edward's presence in my life—the timing, his persistence and perseverance, his honesty and imperfections—had enlightened me about relationships, about how I felt about myself, about how I could impact the lives of others. Even his acknowledgment of who I was to him changed the way I saw things.

As much as I felt we were making headway with each other, I was also aware that I was going to have to make a choice at some point about where I was headed—build a life of my own, isn't that what I'd said? While I was feeling for the first time ever that I was sure I was right where I belonged, that I was invested and engaged in both my job at the shelter and my relationship with Edward, could I just stay?

Riley would give me shit about following a boy. I didn't want to think about what Dr. Inara would say. My guidance counselor would say that I should consider grad school. She'd ask about jobs, if I'd lined anything up. She'd ask where I saw myself in five years.

For the hell of it, I tried to picture myself in five years, and I saw myself at Rosenberg Shelter. I saw myself working with kids. I wanted to do more than I was doing—more along the lines of what Gunn and Wes did, except maybe counseling, too. I wished I could create a position for myself.

I had no idea if Gunn and Wes even had any money in their budget for another position, let alone how much it would pay. Also, wouldn't I need some kind of license to do the kind of work they did? I would definitely need to go to grad school, and I hadn't even taken the GREs yet.

Edward suddenly snored next to me and shifted in his seat, almost as if he were saying "Hey, what about me?" Not that I thought so much of myself that I assumed I was in his future, but I had to consider him. And, if I was honest with myself, I saw Edward in my future, too. Or at least, I wanted to.

But, what about him? Would I be making a mistake to consider him in my future plans? Would I be falling back into my old habit of leaving my future up to a man?

What if there wasn't a job with Rosenberg Shelter, or what if I just decided that it wasn't what I wanted after all? Could I walk away from Edward? Should I walk away from the first real thing I'd ever known? And, at the end of the day, why would I assume that just because I'm head over heels for him that he feels the same way?

I saw a sign for an upcoming gas station. Since we were running low on fuel, I re-focused my mind on taking the next exit to gas up. As the car began to slow on the exit ramp, Edward and Masen both stirred awake.

"Gas?" Edward grunted.

"Yeah."

He stretched and rubbed his eyes. I felt a small smile tug at my lips as I watched him reach over the seat and rub Masen's head.

"I can take over from here," he said then looked me in the eye. His voice was rough and his eyes were droopy from sleep.

I mentally shook away the previous thoughts I was having because I didn't want to think about anything else but us right then. I wanted enjoy him and the intimate changes between us for the rest of the ride, so I smiled and nodded as I handed him the keys and hopped out of the car.

I used the restroom, splashed some water on my face, and combed through my hair, while Edward filled the gas tank. By the time I exited the restroom, Edward was walking Masen around a grassy area outside next to where he'd re-parked the car. I grabbed a couple big bottles of water to purchase, then made my way to meet the boys.

"Thanks," he said as I approached the car. "I was just coming in to get water."

He stopped me in my tracks by taking one of the water bottles from my hand then wrapping his arms around my waist. He groaned into my neck, as Masen sat on the concrete next to us and scratched at his ear.

"I have half a mind to get a cheap motel in this little town," Edward whispered against my skin, sending shivers down the back of my neck. "Just wanna climb under the sheets with you."

Goddamn.

"I have class tomorrow," I whispered back, reaching my free hand up between us—not to push him away, but to feel his heart beat through his chest. He had such a strong heart beat. "Early."

I turned and tilted my head and caught his lips with mine. My body responded to him the way it always did, with certainty of want; I knew what I wanted when I was with him. I just didn't know if it was enough for the rest of my life.

"I know," he said with another groan. "We'll get you there on time."

He pulled away then turned to open the passenger door for me, and the back door for Masen, letting the big lummox hop up into the back seat while I climbed in front.

The rest of the week dragged ass once we got back home, but I kept myself busy with schoolwork and shelter work, and with my brain working over time to not think too much. I was terrified that I would do that thing I used to do—shift into autopilot and leave my fate up to my boyfriend, but, at the same time, I was terrified of losing him.

Ultimately, I decided to keep the recent control I'd gained and directly face whatever life offered me, no matter how hard it might be. I owed it to myself.

"That's quite a step, Rose," Dr. Inara said during our Friday afternoon session, wherein I announced my new revelation to her. "How does it feel?"

"Scary," I answered. "But I'm more aware now, which is a good thing. I don't think I could go back to not being aware, not knowing, just going with the flow."

"Well, we can never know everything," Dr. Inara said with a small smile. "But engaging and being aware of self is of utmost importance."

I nodded, glancing around the room as she jotted some notes in her book. Then she surprised me with her next question.

"Have you talked to Edward about being scared about your future?"

"Not really," I answered, staring at her in confusion. "I mean, we're open with each other, but the big-picture-future thing is more my thing, isn't it?"

I asked the question because I thought I had been on the right track, but Dr. Inara seemed to have other ideas.

"Yes, but it's also about how you relate to people," she answered, looking me in the eye. "It's about truth and trust. Having faith in yourself and someone else. Staking a claim."

I snorted.

"I think the staking a claim part was the problem before," I said. "Remember when I thought I was gonna marry a guy who was engaged to someone else?"

"That was what you wanted to believe at the time, Rose," Dr. Inara answered calmly, annoyingly serene smile playing on her lips. "But you yourself have told me that deep down you knew the truth. You've said that you knew that Royce wasn't the one."

She was right. I had convinced myself to believe a truth about a man I didn't even know and who didn't know me. I had trusted that everything was going to work out just right, handing everything over to whoever and whatever, but then, when I have someone I can really trust, someone whose truth I know and who knows mine, I'm scared shitless and trying to convince myself it's all the same.

Talk about falling into old habits.

"It's difficult to truly join your life with another person, especially when you have so much to consider—family, friends, careers—but it's worth it if what you want is a partnership," she said, folding her notebook closed with finality. "You need to decide if Edward is the right person for the job and the only way to know that is through talking to him."

I did want a partnership. I wanted the support and the companionship, the kindness and the security. But, more than anything, I wanted to be loved. I wanted to share my life and joy with someone who understood me and felt passion for me, and the things I cared about. What was suddenly very obvious was that I didn't know I wanted those specific things until I knew Edward.

"I'll talk to him," I said, and Dr. Inara nodded.

"Good," she said.

On Saturday morning, I got up and shredded with that bitch Jillian Michaels. I did some laundry and threw some old Royce-tainted clothes, books, CDs, and knick-knacks into a box as thrift store donations. Then, that afternoon, I worked on my volunteer assessment outline and sent it to Riley for input. All the while, I thought about Edward and what I would say to start our partnership talk when he came over for dinner after the shelter that night.

I liked to cook, but didn't have a lot of practice, yet I was more concerned about my lack of preparedness for the talk. I hoped it would be simple and easy, like it always was when Edward and I had conversations. Sometimes they became heated, but it was always comfortable and surprisingly not scary. Tonight's topic was scary.

I had ogled Edward for two solid hours at the shelter. He was one of those guys who's always smoking hot, even after I'd seen him drool in his sleep and smelled his breath after he'd eaten curry, so watching him teach martial arts to kids barefoot in a thin, white tank top was like a super-ovulation stimulant. By the time we'd put the kids to bed and battened down the hatches, I was on the fence about cooking him dinner and talking about our future versus taking him home and fucking him until we both passed out.

Thankfully, we'd each driven separate cars, so on the way home I realized it'd probably be a good idea if I did what my therapist suggested; I chose to postpone the fucking him unconscious thing until after our talk.

"Want me to open this now?" Edward asked, holding up a bottle of wine and I nodded in agreement.

He had stopped on his way to my apartment to grab a bottle of Malbec. We'd been trying a lot of different reds together lately because he said he wanted to get used to functioning under the influence of red wine in order to avoid future wedding-brawl-like embarrassment, and I just wanted to get a better feel for pairing wines with food.

Edward pulled some glasses from my cabinet, popped the bottle open, and poured us each a serving. While the pasta boiled, I sautéed garlic and onions, browned a little ground sausage, and heated the red sauce. He brought me a glass and we clinked in an informal and silent toast then sipped.

"Mmm," he mumbled. "I like this. Do you?"

"Yeah," I answered, distracted and feeling edgy, and considering slamming the glass to smooth my nerves.

"Can I get some plates ready for us?" he asked. "Or something?"

I shrugged with indecision. I was still standing in front of the stove with a glass full of wine in my hand that Edward had probably spent too much money on for a random Saturday night at my house with sauce from a jar. I flicked my eyes up to meet his gaze and noticed he hadn't missed a beat of my weirdness; he was eyeing me like I might sprout a second head and start singing The Lonely Goatherd.

I turned the burner under the pasta off and the rest of the burners to low and swallowed my anxiety instead of the rest of my wine, then set my glass aside.

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

I realized how stupid I sounded. Edward and I were pretty fucking personal at that point. I hadn't really been much more personal with anyone else ever, so when his ever-expressive eyebrows scrunched inward with skepticism at my question, I thought about rephrasing it. Until his voice soothed my concern.

"Of course you can." He set his own glass aside and gave me his full attention. "You can ask me anything."

I took a deep breath.

"You told me once, when we were talking on the phone, that you wanted to have children."

Talking about having children seemed to be as safe a place as any to start the talk.

"Yes…" he said with a small nod and tilt of his head. "But that's not your question, is it, Róisín?"

I paused, searching his face. Edward was so in tune with me. I guessed, I was in tune with him, too, but I was still so unsure.

"I just wondered…" I swallowed thickly, feeling a lump in my throat. "I wondered… why you decided not to help Darla and Dru if you want kids."

A number of emotions transformed his features from concern to surprise to sadness. Finally he settled on timid when he began to answer.

"Well," he said, leaning into the kitchen counter, shoving a hand up into the opposite sleeve of his hoodie, absently scratching the designs on his forearm and elbow. "The first time they asked—five years ago—I wasn't ready. Then, when things went down the way they did with Siobhan…"

One hand went to his hair and the other braced against the counter, white knuckled, like with the steering wheel.

"I just felt like things were in enough tumult in my life as it was. I thought I could wait."

I instantly felt much less anxious but super fucking guilty for putting him on the spot. Again. I wanted to apologize, tell him I was sorry for poking and prodding-

"But ultimately?" He kept talking as he stood up straight, shoulders back, looking me straight in the eye. "I didn't agree to their proposal because when I have kids, I want them with me every day. I wanna live with my kids and learn and grow with them."

He slowly closed the short distance between us, reaching out to touch me. He ran his fingers back through my hair, tucking stray strands behind my ear, just the way I liked. I loved the way he touched me and I loved the way he talked to me; and I hoped that what he was saying wasn't giving me false hope.

"Does that make sense?" he asked, his voice quiet and close, his eyes watching my mouth, his warm fingers resting wrapped around the back of my neck.

"Yeah," I croaked, then cleared my throat. "I think what you're saying is you wanna be able to settle down with a family of your own."

He nodded and took a step closer.

"Róisín?"

"Yeah?" I could feel his heat and his understanding and the meeting of our individual vulnerabilities just before they started to meld into something less fragile.

"I don't know what's goin' on in your head right now," he said quietly, searching my face, shaking his head. "But I'm here, ya know that, right?"

I nodded. "I know that. I just… I'm not sure where we're going with this."

Edward slanted his head almost imperceptibly, his eyes wandering over my jaw and my chest. His forehead was lined with uncertainty, and I hoped it wasn't because he wasn't sure how he felt about me, and I really hoped it wasn't because he thought I wasn't sure how I felt about him.

"Where do you wanna go with this?" he asked, his hand sliding up into the back of my hair.

As much as I had pondered for days what I wanted and how I felt and what was the right thing for me to do, what I wanted was him.

"With you," I answered. "But…"

He closed his eyes and my own vision of his face blurred. I felt the first tear hit my cheek and couldn't bring myself to care that I was crying in front of him.

"But?" he asked, opening his eyes again a new fire stirring behind the ashen green.

"I'm scared," I answered, taking the chance that Dr. Inara said I should take. The chance I didn't believe I could take, and judging by the look on his face right then, hurting him in the process.

"Of what?" he asked, his expression incredulous. "Me? Have I hurt you?"

I knew he was thinking of his fit in the cab and the temper he'd mentioned, and I wanted to throw my arms around him and tell him he could never hurt me that way.

"No!" I said, shaking my head and reaching for his retreating form, pulling him close to me again. "Not you, just…" I sighed heavily, gripping the thick fabric of his hoodie and burying my face in his chest. "I'm afraid to make the wrong decision for both of us. I don't have the best track record."

I felt him collapse under me then envelope me in his arms. He was so warm as he brought our bodies flush against each other, calming us both.

"We both have a past," he said. "But I'd like to have a future with you."

I closed my eyes and felt my tears stream over my cheeks and jaw, dropping into the v-neck of my t-shirt.

"You don't think we're rushing things?" I asked.

"No, I don't."

His hands roamed my back, warming and soothing me, mirroring my own hands on his body. I turned my head up to face him. He looked so tired.

"I'm sorry if I stressed you out," I said.

"Fuck," he breathed. "I thought you were gonna break up with me."

We both laughed in relief, and I rested my head against his chest once again.

"I don't wanna break up with you," I said. "I like you too much."

"Good," he said, rocking and cradling me, kissing the top of my head. "'Coz I like you too."

I sniffled a few more times then realized my pasta was getting mushy. I told him we should probably eat, then, so he pulled away from me to search for plates and cutlery and helped me get our dinner ready.

When we finally settled on the couch with our spaghetti and wine, I was exhausted, but so very, very at peace.