"You're panicking."
"No," she croaked.
"You are. I know what it looks like - your hands are trembling."
"No."
"It's okay if you are, but I wish you wouldn't." He nudged in closer and if she hadn't been panicking before, she definitely was now. His fingers around hers, trapping her. "Is it that you just realized-"
"No, stop," she choked out.
He froze. Wide-eyed.
"Not that," she moaned. Buried her face in her hand - which was his hand too - felt his fingers curling at her forehead, in her hair. "I don't mean - I just mean stop talking so much, God, I can't."
He was silent.
"I don't mean that either," she whispered, lifting her head. "My therapist says I shut down-"
"Your therapist?" His voice pitched up and broke.
She nodded; his fingers were still threaded through her hair and the movement brought a strand across her lips.
Which he carefully moved away. "Your therapist. I didn't know you were… still going."
"Yeah." She blinked in the darkness as his fingers stroked along her cheek. Her hair was fine, there were no stray strands; he was just caressing her. "Yeah, I'm working on things."
His eyes traveled over her mouth. Slowly back to her eyes. "That wall?"
She nodded and felt his fingers brushing her cheek and now down to her neck. Her heart was thundering and he knew it; his fingers at her pulse told on her.
"Are you still freaking out?"
"Yes."
"I won't-"
"You can."
"I won't." His hand was light on her neck. "Not when neither of us have really slept and you're… maybe not as hungover as you were. But still. No. I won't."
She let out a breath, trying to slow her heart rate. Slow this down. Everything, her reaction, the night, his eyes on her. She didn't want to panic when it was so….
Beautiful. Easy. None of this hellacious week had been easy or beautiful and now in the muffled room with the curtains drawn against the world, she could say that, she could see it. It was right before her.
"Should have talked a long time ago," she offered.
"Maybe." His thumb brushed now at her throat and she swallowed. His eyes were watching the pulse in her neck, and now drifting.
Drifting across her body.
"Rick."
His eyes came back to hers, but slowly, with purpose. She was in his bed. She had crawled into his bed and he wasn't taking full advantage, but some. Some advantage.
She could too.
—–