"So," whispers Emerald tonelessly, almost too quietly for her to hear.
"So," replies Crystal, equally uncertain of how to break the ice.
Silence presides over the bedroom, rooting itself into the air like a plant roots itself into the soil. The decoration of the room is relatively crowded, for its volume - there is the bed itself, positioned up against the west-facing wall. From there, through the somewhat large window, the light of the morning sun shines onto the room and the occupants of the bed.
Off the bed's foot-end, a distance separated, was the wall into which the clothes-closet was built along with the orange-hued sliding door. By the wall opposite their bed, there stood an unremarkable brown-wood bookcase with five different shelves both horizontally and vertically alongside a colorful array of books.
The clothes that they wore the evening before - a red sleeveless shirt, a green short-sleeved one, overall-shorts and bra, a pair of boxers and a pair of panties, a set of pants - lie sprawled around the floor, with no regard given by either occupant of the nearby bed.
The two of them lie there, quietly, utterly unclothed, face-to-face and their nakednesses covered up by the duvet. On their faces are light smiles, in contrast in the uneasy moods showing in their eyes.
"Good morning," says the blond teen, eventually. Crystal releases a breath, but the look in her eyes doesn't change. He decides against considering its meaning.
"And good morning to you too," replies the nineteen-year-old. The raven-haired woman remains still, eyes locked with his.
There is again silence, one that stretches a bit; its presence is neither completely pleasant nor unpleasant.
It is Emerald who first deflates the silence. "So, um," he pauses momentarily, sounding more than slightly anxious, "how was it?"
Crystal shifts her position, rolling onto her back while ignoring the mild sensation of the covers brushing against her boobs, staring squarely up into the ceiling, her arm over the covers and the covers over her chest. She feels an impulse to run her fingers through her hair, but doesn't.
He knows he shouldn't, but Emerald can't not take a peek at the rise of the duvet below her neck. He feels his face redden, and his little guy rise.
The teen's face is tinged with pink as she tries to find the proper words. About the last thing she wants is for either of them to leave wrongly thinking that they disappointed the other. "It was, um..."
"The better kind of 'um'?" teases her blond bed mate.
She releases an amused scoff that doesn't manage to become a chuckle, then turns her head to meet his gaze. "Yeah, that fits, Emerald," she is sure of that. What she isn't is what exactly she thought about it. Beyond the vague 'good', her brain seems unwilling to cooperate with her about defining it. "How about you?"
The smile on his face brightens. "It was- the major part was good," he answers, not caring to specify it any further. She smiles back, pleased to have pleased in this particular regard. The Catcher decides that that about sums the experience up. Yet, she is sure that it is half a lie - amateur or not, she is sure that sex wasn't supposed to include half the stuff from last night.
As they lie there, they slide back into the silence in all its semi-awkward glory. The silence feels how the blond imagines it is to walk through a minefield. He likes that thought, he decides silently, and looks away from her, out towards the bedroom.
The ceiling, Crystal thinks, can use a fresh coat of paint, and maybe something can be done to smooth out all those bumps on the the walls (whatever they are), and- she pauses before beginning another carriage in her thought-train. She's begun to ramble mentally, she notes and, well, is that really so bad? She hadn't expected to start that this soon, but she guesses that is just how it went.
Emerald shifts, turning to her. He stares straight at her. Crys inclines her head.
"Just curious, but how good are the chances that," he pauses a moment; to decide how to put it, she speculates, "that it's always gonna be this way in the mornings?"
She decides this is a good occasion for lip-biting, but doesn't. Instead, she gazes at the ceiling again. A bit after, she says, "I hope not," soon she adds, "don't really think so, either."
He smiles, releases a faintly humming breath, and decides that good. Then he feels her fingers, the familiar sensation of her skin that is both calloused and soft and her hand's warmness, wrap around his.
"So, just relax," she smiles, hoping that they'll both listen. "It's just, just... starting difficulties," a nice and reasonable answer, Emerald decides, and decides to not question it.
There's nothing that doesn't require practice, Crystal thinks; whatever they might want, out of desire to please or just because of their egos, a perfect first try at sex wasn't very reasonable. She's pretty sure there's a quote of some book that applies here, it is impossible otherwise in light of the sheer number of them, but "whatever," she thinks.
"While we're having this conversation," she speaks on, smile dropped into a neutral look, "what's the plan for this evening?" At his look, she elaborates, "If you're up for it, I'll like to," she grows a mischievous smirk, something she hopes looks flirty on her, "well, make another go at it."
To his mild surprise, he sighs with relief at that. A grin grows onto his face, one almost too wide for his face. "Love to," he replies, and the two words practically rush out from his mouth.
She flushes, and then smiles. What more is there to say, she thinks, to add to the conversation, and quickly thinks of something. "Got any plans for today?"
Mild confusion mixes with the unabashed joy on his face. "Nothing major, I was gonna hang out with Green."
"Well, I was thinking," resumes the coal-haired woman, grin unwavering, "that since we don't really have anything to do, there's really no reason to get out of bed just yet," she breaks the hand-hold, shifts minutely, then leans in to kiss him.