A/N: Sorry I haven't updated in a while. I haven't had time to write. So I'm throwing in a brief interlude until I can get the rest of the story developed.

Chapter 35

Gracie was reading on the couch when Eric came home. He dropped his keys and cap on the kitchen counter. Tami immediately began talking to him about her day. "And they say they don't want to take away more than a class period for the college fair, but how are these kids supposed to explore all their options in fifty-five minutes? It's absolutely ridiculous. Eric! Are you even listening to me? This is important to me."

He glanced at Gracie, put an arm on Tami's shoulder, and led her into the adjacent mostly closed off dining room. "Vince's mom has HIV."

"What?"

"He just called me today to tell me. He wants to get onto the Saints so he can be closer to her. I think…I think you're going to have some counseling to do when he gets here."

Tami put a hand on his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned close to her, and she took him in her arms. "He doesn't deserve this," Eric said.

"When will he transfer?"

"Well it's mid-semester, so it's tricky. He's looking into a hardship transfer. If he can get permission, he'll come over, do spring training with me, but not really take any classes until the fall. He'll basically lose a semester."

"We should have him over for dinner when he gets here," Tami said, "Him and Jess both, I think."

He pulled her into his arms. "I was hoping you'd say that. You always know what to do and say. I don't know what to say to him."

She sighed. "Poor kid."

"Are you still not drinking on weekdays?" he asked her. "Or do you want to split a bottle of wine? Because I need a drink tonight."

"I think this is a reasonable exception to my new rule, sugar."

[*]

Eric forgot his worries for an evening, his fear for Vince's suffering, his stress over the upcoming spring training. He'd missed this reliable relief from the weight of life when Tami was in the coma all those months. He'd turned to Chuck sometimes to talk off his stress, but it wasn't the same. There was no one he could be as honest with as Tami. And of course, Tami had other virtues Chuck lacked…

Eric's face flushed from the wine as Tami leaned back against his chest now. His arm went around her shoulders and her body felt perfect against his, a comforting weight. He held his wine glass with one hand and twirled a strand of her long hair around his finger with another.

He'd looked at her shell in that coma every time he'd visited, but it hadn't been her, not her as he knew her, like this, vibrant, alive, a twinkle in her eye and a glimmer in her smile and still, after all these years, breathtakingly beautiful to him. He kissed the top of her head and whispered, "I love you."

Tami leaned forward and set her wine glass on the coffee table, and he set his own on the end table. She returned to him, this time turning her body to face him and kissing his lips gently. She tasted of salt and wine as he slipped his tongue inside her mouth and persuaded her to deepen the kiss.

He rested a hand on her waist and let it slide very slowly upwards. He never knew if a kiss like this was an "I love you but I'm ready to go to sleep kiss" or a "green light for sex" kiss. Any deep kiss was to him an engraved invitation, but he'd been shot down enough times on the follow through to know she didn't always see it that way. So when he began to stroke her breast through the silky fabric of her blouse, he was ready for the possibility that she might move his hand. Instead she murmured against his lips and shifted herself against his fingers. He made a lazy circle around her nipple, and her murmur became a moan.

He pulled away, breathing hard, his forehead pressed to hers. "Want to fool around?" he asked.

"Is that a rhetorical question?"

"I…."

She laughed, kissed his lips once, and said, "Take me to bed, Eric."

He loved how responsive she was as she straddled him in bed, the blanket fallen to her hips, her nude body exposed fully to his admiring gaze. He loved the way she threw herself into his touch and spoke her pleasure with sighs and murmurs and moans and, eventually, a shout that she bent to muffle against his shoulder. He flipped her onto her back when the pleasurable shivering finished shooting through her frame, and whispered, "My turn now?"

"Eric," she told him, her voice raspy from her own pleasure, "I want to make you come."

It didn't take long.

As he lay on his back recovering, she settled against his chest and pulled up the blanket. "We've been having a lot of sex lately," she observed.

"Ain't nothin' wrong with that."

She giggled, her breath hot against his flesh, and he smiled. "Making up for lost time still, I guess?" she asked. "I wasn't conscious of it like you, but I guess…I don't know. You've been eager lately. And it's kind of sexy."

Eric raised an eyebrow, "Yeah? You didn't used to think so. Used to annoy you when I was eager."

"No it didn't," she insisted. "Well…sometimes. I don't know. Maybe it's a turn on to know you were celibate for so long, that you were waiting for me…and that you want me as badly as you do."

He turned on his side and looked her in the eyes. "I've always wanted you badly, Tami. I just…maybe sometimes I took you for granted."

"It happens, after years and years. I'm sure I've done the same." She kissed him. "I love you, Eric. I'm glad you're mine."

He closed his eyes and snuggled his head into the pillow. "All yours," he murmured.

"You're going to sleep already, aren't you?"

"No," he said, but those were the last words he heard.