Prelude to a Kiss
None of psych belongs to me, sadly. Very sadly. For I would do some lovely things with it. Alas. Probably best this way anyhow. TPTB own all of it, I'm just playing. Slight spoilers for "Heeeeeeere's Lassie," contained herein.
"The hell?"
Carlton staggered back, eyes huge as he automatically groped for a weapon Juliet already knew he didn't have on him, his hand dropping as he realized it was her.
"You son of a bitch," she snarled, shoving him against the wall and balling her aching fist up once more. "You stupid, scared son of a bitch." She advanced, wishing like hell she didn't feel so much like killing him because she'd missed him so damned much and he was finally here and dammit, in spite of the fact that she wanted to kill him, she wanted to take him in her arms and tell him all the different ways he was being an idiot.
All the different ways she loved him, even though what he'd done felt like a knife through her heart.
Maybe after she killed him.
"You lied to me." She drew her arm back, but this time he was prepared, catching her fist in his larger hand and spinning her around until he had her pinned to the wall, his larger body holding her in place. Infuriating her further because dammit, he felt lean and hard and so much like home and she didn't want to feel that way. She wanted to stay blinding rage mad at him. She wanted to make him hurt the way he'd hurt her, the bastard—
"I didn't lie, Juliet. I swear—
"You did." She squirmed against his hold, managing to drive an elbow into his ribs hard enough to make him grunt and cause his hold to loosen. Sliding away from him, she gave him a hard shove into the wall before spinning away, gasping. And damn him, because even through a scrim of blurry, stupid, wet tears, he looked wonderful, in his wrinkled shirt and khakis, with that messy salt-and-pepper hair and those intensely blue eyes rimmed in red and exhausted looking shadows and she wanted to believe him so badly. But no… no, no, no… she couldn't. Not after what he'd done. Not when she had the proof, right there in black and white. Not when every damned person who knew them had seen what his betrayal had done to her—
"You lied, Carlton—you said you needed time and maybe you didn't say so outright, but implied was that you'd give us a chance." She snatched that damnable folder and its incriminating contents from the dining table where she'd tossed it after reading it for what seemed like the hundredth time.
"This is not giving us a chance, you coward!" She threw the folder, the papers fluttering like some sort of obscene confetti. "And if you think it can be that easy, you're an idiot as well as a coward."
Ducking the flying papers and wincing as the corner of the stiff folder clipped his cheek, he took a determined step forward, his eyes blazing blue fire, his mouth in a familiar tight line. Oh, he was mad now? He was mad?
Good. Great. Bring it. Her fists clenched in preparation.
"Juliet, stop it—" Oh, goody, he was close enough, but once again, he read her correctly, catching her arm before it could connect. "Dammit, Juliet, please—" He yanked her in close, as if he knew, dammit—that feeling him against her was her Kryptonite. "Stop—you don't understand."
"I understand you don't want to be married to me anymore." All of a sudden all of the fight and all the fury she'd built since the moment she'd opened that miserable envelope deserted her, leaving her drained and gasping as she collapsed against his chest. "You don't want me," she whispered against his shirt front, breathing him in even as she pounded a weak fist against his chest.
His arms tightened around her. "God, baby, no— no. That's the furthest thing from the truth."
The endearment, heard only once before, deep within the dark and quiet of that too-short night he'd promised in exchange for time, had the combined effect of engendering hope along with a fresh wave of anger as she remembered, in a flood of detail, everything about that night. No matter what she'd feared, that had been a night that promised forever. Not goodbye.
"Then why, dammit?" She pounded his chest once more, her fist opening and laying flat over his heart, the speed and power with which it was pounding traveling along her arm and into her own chest, making her gasp as she felt the force of his emotion.
"Why, Carlton?"
"It was stupid—I was stupid." His cheek rubbed against her hair as his hands stroked the length of her back. "I didn't think they'd be delivered until I was back."
As her breath caught, he continued, his words emerging in a rush. "I wanted an annulment because I wanted to ask you to marry me." His hands stilled at her waist as he continued in a miserable voice, "Everything was so fucked up with this stupid case and we got caught in the middle and you know, I just wanted to do something right."
She felt one hand leave her back and reach between them, fumbling in his pocket. A moment later he held a small box between them.
"You asked me in Tahoe if I'd ever given anything like what happened between us thought." His chest rose and fell beneath her palm in a huge shuddering breath. "And I said yes, but I didn't tell you exactly what I'd thought."
Speechless, she stared up into his face, studying the dark arches of his brows, the thick lashes rimming his eyes, turned a deep, soft gray blue, the fine lines radiating from the corners not detracting from them in the slightest. Her gaze took in his high, broad cheekbones and the distinctive line of his nose, following it to his mouth, normally held in such stern lines but now—for her—relaxed into the shape she recalled fitting hers so very well.
"So tell me," she finally said quietly.
"That I'd entertained too damned many fantasies about us. Not just physical fantasies, but us, Juliet." His hand trembled slightly against her back. "Together, in every way. I dreamed about asking you to marry me."
"But—" she started, but stopped as his hand moved from her back to press against her lips.
"Yeah, I moved on, but only after it seemed you had." One brow rose. "Or at least, I tried. In the end, it was monumentally unfair—to both of us. But she's the one who realized it."
Juliet's eyes widened as she understood the implication of his words. "So you weren't with her when we—" She faltered, unable to finish the sentence, slightly distracted by the feel of his fingers against her mouth.
Not that she needed to finish the thought.
"She broke up with me not long after I moved in here." She watched as a sad smile crossed his face. "Guess she got tired of hearing me go on about how you'd taken care of me in the wake of that Amy whackaloon. How there was no way in hell Spencer deserved you."
At his words she recalled with crystal clarity, the stomach-churning fear she'd experienced at Shawn's call—his description of taking down a drug-hampered, sword-wielding Carlton with a tackle he'd bragged about, saying that some good had clearly come from his time with the pro football team. Remembered how her first concern hadn't been for Gus's well-being or even Shawn's but for Carlton—was Carlton okay?
Dammit, Shawn, yes, she was sure the tackle was splendid and yes, it was a shame no one had been videotaping it because yes, yes, surely ESPN would have featured it in their nightly Top Ten moments, but was Carlton okay?
She remembered tucking the blanket around him and taking him back to the station and sitting with him on the sofa in Vick's office. How the adrenaline based in the terror and confusion of the past several days had finally drained away and combined with the lingering effects of the amyl to lure him into a deep sleep. He had no idea how she'd eased him down so his head rested in her lap and sat there for hours, stroking his hair and when it seemed as if a bad dream was trying to grab hold of him once again, taking his hand in hers and rocking him gently until the lines of tension had eased. He had no idea how he'd turned into her, one arm reaching around her waist and holding on—trusting her, even in sleep, to take care of him.
He had no idea what that had done to her.
Just over two weeks later Vick had called them into her office and well… well… here they were.
"That wedding was such a damned sham, no matter how legal it was and then we had to see our first kiss on a video with a bunch of strangers watching us." His teeth dug into his lower lip in that endearing manner he had when he was fighting for words.
"I filed those stupid papers because I wanted us to start fresh. I wanted to ask you to marry me—the right way."
He flicked the box open, revealing a diamond solitaire, three smaller diamonds descending from either side, set into the etched gold band echoing the one she already wore. That, she noticed, he also still wore.
Every line of his body held tense, he softly said, "I wanted to finally tell you how damned much I love you, Juliet." He swallowed, the muscles working along the long line of his throat. "I was too fucking scared to tell you how much I love you."
Juliet searched his gaze, deeply blue and filled with all the same fear and hope and dreams she'd been feeling the past five weeks. Hell, longer than that, truthfully. And said the only thing she could say.
"God, you're an idiot."
She suppressed a laugh at the confusion widening his eyes so that a full rim of white surrounded the beautiful blue.
"Come here."
She tried to grasp his hand, but he refused to move, frozen in place, the question hovering over him.
"No," she said flatly, crossing her arms, feeling a twinge of pity as his shoulders slumped, the life seeming to drain out of him like air leaking from a balloon. But she only let him suffer for the briefest of moments—she simply didn't have it in her to torture him. At least not in this manner.
She did, however, have plans.
"You idiot," she said softly. "I am not going to say yes to your marriage proposal because we're already married and I'm quite happy to stay that way."
"But—"
Her turn to stop him by pressing her fingers to his mouth, shivering at the wash of warm, damp air across her skin as he exhaled.
"Carlton, I don't need it—" She shifted her hand to cup his cheek, her heart skipping a beat as she felt him lean into her touch. "I don't need the ceremony or the ritual. I've got what I need right here." Her thumb caressed his skin, shivering at the feel, warm and rough with stubble beneath hers. Smiling, she extended her left hand. "I will, however, be more than happy to wear your ring."
For long, charged moments they did nothing more than gaze at each other—a moment in which she felt they exchanged vows and promises every bit as important and binding as the ones they'd spoken to each other in that Tahoe chapel. Finally, he nodded slowly and tugged the ring free from the box's leather-lined interior, slowly sliding it onto her ring finger until it was nestled up against the band, not quite an exact match, but nevertheless looking as if they belonged together.
Kind of perfect, really.
"It's beautiful, Carlton." She turned her hand slightly, watching the play of light on the solitaire and the six smaller stones studding the band. One for each year they'd been together. Overall, it wasn't especially large or flashy, but that was fine with her—it wouldn't get in the way during work but more importantly, it suited her.
"Now—" Once again she took his hand and led him to the sofa. Picking up the remote, she turned on the television, noting with a sidelong glance, his surprise as they appeared on the screen.
"Juliet, what—"
"Just watch. Actually—" She took a deep breath and increased the volume. "Just listen." She didn't know what had compelled her to watch the damned thing. Especially considering how mad she'd been when she got home. But she'd figured maybe she'd see something—hear something—that might give her some clue what the hell was going on in her husband's brain. Maybe she'd been trying to reassure herself—that what she'd seen on the screen that day, had actually been real and not some figment of her imagination.
What she'd seen had given her both hope and a renewed determination that she was damned if she was going to give the man an annulment. No way was she letting him off the hook that easy.
The point she started the recording now was near the end of the ceremony—just after the officiant had pronounced them husband and wife and Carlton had barely let the man finish before he was lowering his head, his hands cupping her face, a smile of absolute joy lighting his eyes and entire face. This was when he'd paused, just for an instant, to say something, but neither of them had had any idea what, since the tech had been fast-forwarding, less concerned with them, than what potential evidence they might discover on the video.
God, I love you, Juliet.
As he started to turn, she held up her hand, shushing him because this next part—it was softer and not so obvious, since the camera hadn't been angled to fully capture her face.
I love you, too, Carlton. So much.
She hit pause and tossed the remote to the table. For a while they sat in silence, his hand automatically reaching for hers as they studied the image frozen on screen. Juliet knew he was seeing the same thing she saw—knew, in that way she knew her partner of the past six years, that he was thinking the same thing she thought. Yeah, maybe they'd still been somewhat under the influence of a drug, but only in so much as it affected their memories. Otherwise, though—yeah. No one could look at the faces of the couple on the screen and doubt that the words they'd spoken to each other were utterly honest and true.
"It's a hell of a thing, really."
"What is?"
He shrugged. "Three times in my life I've been under the influence of illegal substances. Oddly enough, all of them within the last year. One time, I shot Bobo the Donut man. Another, I tried to skewer Guster like a shish kebab—third time, I suppose you could call the charm since all that happened then was I got kidnapped and married the love of my life. Other people get stoned, they get a simple case of the munchies." He shook his head slowly. "Me? I wield deadly weapons and get married. How weird is that?"
She laughed as she scooted closer to him on the sofa, draping one leg over his thigh. Leaning her head on his shoulder, she said, "Is it weird, really, or just par for the course, for us?"
"I don't know." A long heartfelt sigh lifted his shoulders. "I do know, however, that I'm ready to be done with weird for a while, Juliet." He slid his arm around her shoulders, his fingers playing through her hair in a way that had her arching against him like a cat and damn near purring. It'd been five very long weeks, for God's sake. "I just want to settle into a normal life—with you."
Deliberately she walked her fingers across his chest until she reached the buttons of his shirt, a few already conveniently undone. "Any ideas what would constitute normal, Detective?" she asked in a low voice.
Capturing her hand in his, he gently eased her down onto the sofa, eyes darkening with intent.
"Well Detective, I'd be more than happy to give you a practical demonstration."
Winding her arms around his neck she smiled.
"Sounds like a promising start."