A/N: Hello everyone! Thank you so much for the lovely reviews and well wishes on my midterms, I truly appreciate it! As you've noticed, the rating has changed. I don't think it is especially graphic, but is more so than what I normally write. If you feel like skipping past it, stop reading once they start kissing and pick up after the page break— you'll still get the gist of what happened. Hope you enjoy!

New Normal

Chapter Fifteen

Mary was uncertain of how it all began. There was no one moment she could pinpoint and definitively claim as a start. However, the fact of the matter was that it happened. And it kept happening over and over again.

Something changed. When it had happened, Mary couldn't say, but one morning, things were different.

"Schools are shutting down Friday," Tom informed her, stepping out of the office just before their lunch time. "I just found out about it."

Mary let out a sigh before she could stop herself. She had liked having afternoons with Tom all to herself. Realizing she ought to provide some sort of explanation, she said, "I suppose we knew this was coming."

Tom nodded, walking out to the living room to join her on the couch. Mary hadn't even given much consideration to their lunch routine but was startled when he sat by her, staring ahead instead of meeting her gaze. She waited for him to speak, knowing there was something he needed to say but wasn't quite ready yet.

"Sorry," Tom said, swallowing before continuing, "It's only just hit me that this isn't going to go away anytime soon. It's going to be bad."

Mary's stomach lurched. Truthfully, she had avoided dwelling on it much. She was scared... because how could one not be? She worried about Granny and Mama and Papa, as well as Isobel and Dickie, who were all in that age range that was particularly susceptible. Papa and Dickie had health conditions that made them especially prone to becoming truly ill...

Still, she could see Tom was in need of some comfort. With a hesitance she wished she didn't have, Mary reached out and took his hand. They had done it so many times before, an innocent way of soothing one another, but in that moment she knew it somehow wasn't quite the same as it had been before. "It's okay," she said, well aware that it wasn't okay, that things would get much worse before they would get better, but not certain of what else to say.

Tom said nothing but placed a hand on top of Mary's. She felt his fingers twitch around it, just like how she felt the atmosphere of the room change. Still, she didn't know just what sort of atmosphere it was until Tom turned to face her and their eyes locked. For a moment, she was staring into blue, hardly daring to breathe, the next she was in a supine position, Tom's lips pressed against hers almost urgently. Mary responded with equal fervor.

Just like the time before, Mary could hardly believe it was happening but was too overwhelmed by how wonderful it felt to dwell on it too deeply. A moan escaped her as they continued to kiss, Tom's lips practically bruising in his intensity. Her hands moved instinctively, bringing him closer to her, one on the back of his neck.

It ended much too quickly with Tom pulling away, looming overtop of her with a stunned expression. His lips were swollen, eyes wide and flickering down to her own mouth. Mary found herself wishing he would close the gap between them again but instead he said, "I'm sorry... I don't know what came over me."

She tried not to be disappointed... really, she did. "It's perfectly alright," she told him with a forced cheerfulness, though she was still rather breathless. "We're— Well, things are stressful right now. We're all bound to lose our heads every now and again."

Tom nodded before pushing himself off her. Before Mary was even sitting upright again, Tom was already on his feet. "Do you want something to drink?" he asked, almost completely avoiding her gaze.

Mary blinked. "Isn't it a bit early for that?" She knew he must be scattered and feeling rather helpless, considering what had just happened, but she could hardly think drinking midday was the solution to the problem that was the state of the world.

"I mean like a cup of tea or something," said Tom, already slipping back into a façade of casualness. It was astonishing, seeing just how quickly he had recovered from their lapse in judgement— she would call it his lapse, but she had been just as eager to kiss him.

"Oh. Yes. Tea sounds good."

Mary sat on the couch, mentally reeling as Tom began filling up the kettle. Once could be considered an accident, but a second time...

He's obviously distressed, she reminded herself, staring down at her denim clad knees. He was looking for some comfort and hand holding wasn't quite cutting it. There's no need to flatter yourself.

Still, Mary couldn't help but compare it to last time. It was nice to know her drunken self hadn't merely overblown things— Tom really was a great kisser. It was an experience she would be willing to replicate in a heartbeat... but one she never would. Obviously.

By the time Tom returned with the tea, Mary had mostly composed herself. Her eyes fell to his lips unintentionally when she accepted the proffered cup and thanked him, before she quickly averted her gaze to the coffee table. As if he didn't quite trust himself, Tom sat in the rarely occupied arm chair, holding his own cup in his hands. He didn't drink it, simply staring blankly ahead. Mary sipped at hers, uncertain of what to do or what to say.

Somehow, after a long pause, the settled into a fairly neutral conversation of what to do with the children once the time came and to be expecting. Mary listened carefully, but admittedly it was hard to concentrate... especially when she wished he would just stop talking and kiss her again.

They didn't speak of it— at least not until they went to bed. Tom had gone up early, citing tiredness, and Mary had finished watching her show. She half expected him to be asleep already but found him scrolling through his phone when she arrived to the bedroom. It wasn't until she climbed into bed that Tom said, "We're alright, aren't we?"

"Of course we are," said Mary. "Why wouldn't we be?"

"I just mean..." Tom trailed off. "Well, after this afternoon, I thought maybe you might be more comfortable if I slept somewhere else." Mary was inwardly protesting as Tom nervously continued, "I can manage to sleep on the couch again for a few days until we buy an air mattress or something—"

"Don't be ridiculous," Mary cut him off, more harshly than she intended. She dealt him a serious look before saying, "It's not that big of a deal, Tom." It was a lie— it was a big deal— but Mary wasn't about to force Tom to sleep on that torture device of a couch.

Tom relaxed, laying back down. "Alright," he said warily as Mary settled down. "Goodnight, then."

"Goodnight." She rolled over onto her side, not facing him, still tense.

It was clear, despite their best efforts to pretend otherwise, that things had been altered between them. There was almost an electricity surrounding them, sparks flying when they dared step too close to one another. Inadvertent brushes of hands and shoulders and feet were charged, almost as shocking as jolt, yet they neither one acknowledged it. To do so would have been tedious in the first place, given home many times Mary awoke in the middle of the night to Tom's leg wedged between hers and an arm wrapped around her waist, or vice versa.

During one of their final days of solitude, Mary decided to work on hoovering the living room. As she plugged it in, Tom emerged from the office, holding his laptop. "Oh... are you working out here?"

"It's a sunny day," he explained. "I wanted to go by the window. The office is nice, but doesn't have quite enough natural light." Tom settled himself down at the table, pulling out his chair.

She nodded. "Alright. I'll do something else, then." She bent down once more to unplug it.

"Oh, don't worry about me. I can handle it," Tom frantically assured her.

"I don't want to disturb you while you work."

"You won't be," he insisted yet again. He sat his laptop on the table. "Please. Go ahead."

With a sigh, Mary acquiesced. She started up the hoover, its roar loud and most certainly making Tom's concentration waver. She winced, glancing over her shoulder at him. Mercifully, he was looking at his screen. She let out a sigh of relief, which was unable to be heard, and commenced with her task.

But after a few minutes of hoovering the carpet, Mary realized that Tom was no longer fixated on work. Instead, as palpable as a physical touch, she felt his eyes lingering on her. She did her best to ignore it. It's because you're moving about and you've a loud object with you, she told herself. Still, it was hard to convince herself of that narrative when, even after she was through, Tom was still watching her. Even after she had taken care of the chores and was curled up in the armchair on her phone, she kept sensing Tom's gaze. Once or twice, she even caught him, which was always when his blue eyes would dart back to his work.

She didn't quite know how to feel about this. What did it mean? What was so fascinating about her? Did it have something to do with that kiss or was he possibly even attracted to her? Mary had an over abundance of questions and no answers, which meant she was steadily growing frustrated.

However, that wasn't the only frustration mounting. It had been some time since Mary had last been with a man intimately and something about sharing a home and bed with a handsome man who was off limits to her meant her mind wandered to unseemly places. It was the most exquisite kind of torture, laying next to him in bed, knowing that all it would take was leaning over...

But she wouldn't. She couldn't. So whenever Mary awoke from dreams involving her, Tom, and very little clothing, she immediately darted to the bathroom, turned the shower on and doused herself with cold water, hoping the starve away those fantasies.

Nevertheless, it remained difficult. Somehow innocent actions were now erotic. She found her eyes lingering for much too long on his fingers and mouth, thoughts getting carried away with her until Tom asked her something, bringing her back into reality.

Once the children were home, her Friday afternoon and evening was provided with an adequate distraction. It was harder to lose track of time thinking about Tom in ways she shouldn't when Sybbie and George were there to occupy her. She began devoting her energy to transitioning to schooling at home.

"It will be much easier, once things calm down and we can build the addition onto the house," said Mary, reminding herself that the sleeping situation with Tom was not permanent. She turned to Sybbie. "Do you have any ideas about what you want your new room to look like?"

Sybbie shrugged exaggeratedly. "I like my new room," she said, voice close to a whine. "Why will I need to move?"

"I figured you would want to, that's all," said Mary, surprised by her reaction. "After all, you were the one to move out of your old room... and your Dad will need his old room back at some point."

"Yeah, but I like my new one. It's nice."

"It's small, though, darling. Wouldn't you like a bigger room?" urged Mary, hoping to get her to see some sense.

"Not really."

"I want to move," said George suddenly. "I like my room, but maybe I'll like a new one better."

Mary blinked rapidly. Did this mean Tom would have to move into George's room? She suddenly realized then their bedrooms would be close together, so close and yet so far...

"We can discuss this later, when your Dad isn't working," she finally said, figuring Tom deserved to have a say in where he ended up. Considering how obliging he was of the children, she figured he would be more willing to take over George's room.

However, once the subject was broached to him, he was rather ambivalent. "I don't know if there is much sense in worrying about all that now," he said as he and Mary cleared up dinner. She blinked rapidly, which he remained oblivious to. "It will be some time before we can hire anyone anyway, so I don't know how wise it is to worry about things now... and you know how children like to change their minds. Who knows how they'll feel in a few months time?"

"A few months?" The words left Mary's mouth before she could stop them.

Tom turned around, the container full of leftovers in his hands. "It's going to be bad, Mary. There's no telling once things will reopen."

Mary knew that logically, considering they were all stuck at home for the foreseeable future. Nevertheless, all she could think about was sharing her bed with Tom for several more months, with no real end in sight. Oh God... how am I going to manage this? She felt like a fool for not realizing the problem earlier... but what was she supposed to do? Tell him? She wasn't about to let him sleep on the couch again, nor was she going to force him onto an air mattress in the living room or wherever he meant to set it up.

The worst part of all it was knowing how wonderful things could be if they just gave in. Those kisses had been intense, hinting at some compatibility, lustful and passionate. It was only her repeated reminders about how inappropriate it was, along with her unwavering certainty Tom's initiation was the result of anxiety fueled stress. It wouldn't be right and it was never going to happen again.

"Yes, of course," she said, understanding he was waiting for a reply. Her concentration was affected by his blue eyes trained intently on her. "I just— I suppose it's only just hit me how long this might be."

Tom managed a small smile. "We'll get through it," he said, setting the leftovers on the counter so he could take two steps forward and pull her into an embrace. Mary's brain was still tripping over the We in his statement when she felt his arms wrapping around her, suddenly aware of her heart beating in her chest... God, what if he could feel it somehow know what she was thinking?

Thankfully, he didn't seem to. This isn't anything you haven't done before, Mary told herself, reciprocating the gesture, arms moving mechanically. Her senses were heightened, inhaling his scent inadvertently.

"Feel better?" Tom said in her ear, causing her heart rate to spike again.

Mary nodded, not trusting her ability to speak quite yet.

Mary awoke on Saturday morning to Tom climbing out of bed. She groaned in protest as the warmth escaped from the covers.

"Sorry," he whispered, and her eyelids parted. She heard his footsteps pad across the room and opened her eyes, just in time to watch him remove his shirt. Her eyelids shut almost immediately. Obviously it wasn't scandalous and it was hardly anything she hadn't seen before, but it was more the context... Why hadn't he gone to the bathroom? He seemed to exclusively change there... Unless he had been changing here while she slept? That particular thought seemed to stick in her head longer than it should. Still, her eyes remained shut until he left the room.

Mary sat up in bed, more than a little put out. She glanced at the phone, as if she wasn't already aware, looking down at the date. It was her birthday and he hadn't said anything. Had he forgotten? She had offhandedly mentioned a few times, and while she was hardly expecting a party, she would have appreciated a little acknowledgement.

Mary sat in bed, irritated and annoyed. She was wide awake now, all hopes of going to sleep again gone. Mary knew she was being beyond petty, sulking in her room like this, but she wasn't in the mood right now to go join him downstairs, as she knew she should. Maybe in a little while... But for now, she would look at her phone and answer the birthday greetings already sent from her parents.

Before she had given any thought to going downstairs, she heard a knock at her door. Her brow furrowed as Tom's muffled voice said, "Can you open the door? My hands are full."

Curious and wondering what he could possibly have, Mary climbed out of bed. She opened it up to find Tom with a tray full of food. "What's this?" She asked.

"Happy birthday!" Tom beamed, looking proud. "Sorry I made you get out of bed— funnily enough, the point was to keep you there..."

Mary's thoughts quickly went down an avenue they shouldn't. Before she could let herself dwell on things involving Tom and her bed, Mary distracted herself. It was a full English breakfast, completed with a cup of her favorite tea. "This is marvelous," she said, genuinely touched. "Thank you!"

Tom grinned. "If you get back into bed, I'll set it down for you. Like a lady's maid."

Mary chuckled but gladly climbed back into bed. "This is delicious," she told him, in awe that he had gone through such an effort. "Have you ate yet?"

He shook his head. "No. George and Sybbie are sleeping yet. I'll eat with them."

"Don't you want to try some of it?" offered Mary, realizing he had served her a large portion. "I don't mind sharing."

"I didn't bring another fork," Tom reminded her, sitting down.

"You can use mine," offered Mary unthinkingly, only realizing belatedly that maybe it wasn't the best thing to ask in the midst of a pandemic.

Tom didn't seem to mind or care. Mary supposed that considering they lived together, there was little chance they were really exposing each other more by sharing eating utensils... especially considering they shared a bed now. "Alright... I'll have a bite or two, but you need to try some first," he agreed, settling more in the bed.

As always, Tom's cooking was phenomenal. He had really overdone himself this time, and she told him so, which he waved off, insisting it was nothing. He then took the fork from her and it was then that Mary appreciated the intimacy of the gesture.

"I have to admit," said Mary as she joined Tom in the kitchen as the children occupied themselves in the living room, "I thought you had forgotten about me."

Tom shook his head, a small smile on his face. "How could I forget?" he asked, scrubbing a dish.

She shrugged. "It's been known to happen."

"Well, I could never forget something so important," Tom said, much too casually for the affect it had on Mary. She could hardly even begin to describe the all consuming warmth that had taken over her.

A few beats of silence passed before Mary realized she ought to say something. "Are you sure?" She said lightly, leaning against the countertop. "Even when you're old and grey?"

"Of course," Tom replied with ease. "I might forget my own name or that I'm supposed to wear trousers out in public, but I'll be sure to remember your birthday."

Mary laughed but somehow began imagining the distant future. She realized then that she really couldn't envision a future without Tom there in some capacity. Even when she tried to picture herself as Granny's age, she had an image of Tom sitting beside her, maybe in a rocking chair, reminiscing.

It was a strange sort of thought, but one she knew she wanted... which was why she couldn't let their friendship be ruined. Ever.

"Well, how does thirty four feel?" asked Tom, joining Mary in the bed.

Mary shrugged, a little surprised. They hadn't really had proper conversations in the bed together yet, mainly engaging in awkward small talk and exchanging goodnights. This must be a sign he had grown more comfortable with their arrangement, which came as a relief. She was relieved he was over the stiltedness from before. "Alright, I suppose. Certainly an eventful one, one I doubt I'll forget."

Tom chuckled. "A birthday during a pandemic sounds like a once in a lifetime opportunity... though I hope it won't still be a problem by the time we reach my birthday."

Mary hoped not as well. November was far away... "As long as everyone does what they are supposed to, we should be fine and you shall have a perfect normal birthday," she figured, settling down.

Tom nodded, gaze locked on her. Before she question it too deeply, he dropped it. "Well, good night," he finally said after a while, before turning off the lamp.

The first day of their new lives began on a remarkably uneventful note. All four of them slept in before rising about ten o'clock, enjoying a nice brunch. George and Sybbie, equipped with homework packets, were supervised in the living room by Mary, who scrolled idly on her phone and helped whenever necessary. Being children, it was easy for them to become distracted, but she quickly reminded them to focus and they did... for the most part.

Things remained relatively uneventful until evening. "I think today went well, didn't you?" said Mary as her and Tom ascended the steps for bed.

"Yes," said Tom, strangely disinterested and seeming unfocused.

Mary frowned. "We didn't distract you, being in the living room, did we? I can always move them to their rooms."

"No, don't worry," Tom cut her off. "It's fine. I barely noticed. They were good for you." They had reached the first landing, near Sybbie's room... The place they had shared the first kiss. Mary tried to think about literally anything else. "We make a good team, don't we?" He mused aloud.

"I think so." Mary knew without a shadow of a doubt that she wouldn't be where she was now without Tom's help.

They fell into a companionable silence as they walked to their room, passing George's. Mary reached out to turn the door knob, only for Tom's hand to grab ahold of it first, hands colliding her a brief moment. There was that jolt of electricity again, but Tom said nothing, merely opening the door and saying, "After you, milady."

"What a gentleman," she drawled, entering the bedroom. She made it about two steps before somehow losing her balance, tripping over Tom's slippers that he left by the door. Instead of falling to the floor, Tom's arm wrapped around her waist, holding her mostly upright.

"Steady," he said behind her, before helping her to her feet. She thought he might let go of her as she turned to face him, but his arm remained around her, hold loose, even as she turned around to face him. "Are you alright?"

Mary nodded, unable to speak, keenly aware of his hand and his arm and her racing heart. "'M sorry," Tom said, voice scarcely louder than a murmur. "I shouldn't leave those by the door."

"It's alright." Mary only realized now that his eyes were on her lips. What... Was he going to...? Unable to bear the suspense, Mary let one hand rest on his chest, right above his heart, before leaning forward ever so slightly.

That seemed to be enough. Before Mary could get close enough, Tom had already moved forward, capturing her lips. Unlike the fervent ones that they had shared before, this was slow, almost gentle. They clung to one another, savoring the moment, all the tension that had been slowly built up over boiling over in this one moment.

Mary tried telling herself it would only last for so long, that she ought to enjoy it while she still could, but it seemed to stretch on and on. Tom's hand had slid down ever so slightly, maybe even without any conscious effort, his hand now on her hip. She kept waiting for that moment where he would pull away, the moment where he would break the kiss and apologize, but it never seemed to happen.

They must have started backing up at some point because Mary suddenly felt her knees hit the back of her mattress. On instinct, she tumbled back, tugging Tom down with her. Sirens screeched in her head, warning her this was that step too far, that this would be what drove him away...

The kisses stopped but only for a brief second. Tom drew away, long enough to meet her wide, apprehensive eyes. She could see his pupils were dilated and felt the arm pinned beneath her leave. There was a moment of hesitation, a second of careful deliberation, until Tom pressed another kiss to her mouth.

From that point on, there seemed to be an urgency to everything. Mary felt alive, pulling him closer and closer to her. The intensity only seemed to grow greater, never scaling back. It was as if they were on fire...

Their lips met, again and again, Mary's heart racing. She couldn't believe this was real, that it was actually happening. His left hand slid down her body, resting on her hip. Without thinking, she arched her body off the bed, making contact with him and his arousal.

It was then that Tom pulled away after making a choked moaning sound against her mouth. Mary immediately felt ashamed. Ready to apologize for her actions, she was astonished when Tom look her in the eyes, panting heavily and a hand still on the back of her neck. "Do you want this?" There was no room for misinterpretation, not now that they were on the precipice of altering their relationship irrevocably.

Mary hesitated. This was a complicated situation and it wouldn't do any good to pretend it wasn't. He was the man her sister had loved, the man her husband had welcomed in and seen as a best friend, the man who was raising children with her... Tom knew her better than anyone else.

But damn it if she didn't want him with every fiber of her being.

Mary nodded before whispering, "Yes."

She had barely breathed the word before Tom was kissing her again, his tongue tracing her lips before entering her open, willing mouth. Mary tugged him closer, arms wrapping around his neck and fingers running through his hair with abandon.

The touch of his fingers against the bare skin of her stomach made her gasp. Mary pulled away, watching as Tom slowly lifted her shirt up. She was so transfixed in watching his actions that it never occurred to her to help, only to raise her arms and let him divest her of it. The air felt cool against her flesh and Mary stared into his eyes, wondering if she met his approval as she unhooked her bra.

Tom said nothing, merely staring down at her with a curious expression. Growing self conscious, Mary was about to cover herself with her arms until Tom leaned in again, kissing her deeply, one hand on her waist and the other sliding down low before his fingers hooked into the elastic of her leggings. Mary encouraged him with a nod, her lips parted as she kissed him again, lifting up her hips so he could tug them off.

From that point, it was frenzy to remove Tom of his clothing. Mary felt as though she was being driven mad, as if she had forgotten who she was and the role she was supposed to play. Realistically, they shouldn't be doing this... but Mary found herself more and more desperate for him with each article of clothing being cast aside, joining hers on the floor.

Soon, kisses were no longer confined to her mouth. Mary panted as his lips descended to her neck and lower and lower down her body. Her fingers found their way into Tom's hair when he reached her hipbone. Mary lifted her head up, glancing down as he settled down by her thighs, before gasping loudly and arching her back.

Being with Tom was so different than any other man she had been with. His attentiveness was something she had sorely missed her more recent encounters, as if he had all the time in the world to see she was fully satisfied. She had been forced to press a hand to her mouth to muffle out all the involuntary noises that escaped while the other tangled itself in his hair, determined to keep him where was.

"D'you have— condom?" Mary managed between shallow gasps once Tom gradually worked his way up her body again, trailing kisses on her hips, her ribs, her breasts, her collarbone, before finally meeting her lips. She tasted herself as they kissed before he pulled away to reply to her.

"Yeah. Hold on." Their sweaty foreheads met as Tom pressed another inelegant kiss to her lips before climbing out of bed.

Mary let her head fall to the side, watching him. It was as if her eyes were fully opened now... He was so beautiful. How had she not seen it before? Mary studied every inch of him, in awe and shocked that this was really about to happen.

A voice in the back of her head tried to tell her it was the lust talking, that it wasn't as much a desire for Tom but her mounting sexual frustration, but Mary wasn't so easily convinced. He was already different to her now... but in the best possible way. Realizing she had been ogling at him for some time, Mary maneuvered herself underneath the sheets, trying to regain her composure.

When Tom returned to bed, slipping under the covers with her, it occurred to Mary how mad this whole thing was. If she had any sense, she would have said something, she would have put a stop to it... but instead Mary parted her legs.

Mary woke up facing the wall, an arm draped across her bare waist. It took her a minute to remember what had happened before her eyes widened and she breathed in sharply. Oh my God...

She rolled over to face Tom, as if there was any doubt in her mind who was sleeping next to her. His eyes were still shut, his chest bare, and a slight stubble on his cheeks already. Mary faltered at the sight, panic replaced by a sort of calmness. She studied him with care, a deep affection swelling within her.

She ought to be panicking. She ought to be nearly sick with dread, hoping she hadn't screwed everything up irreparably with the one person who meant so much to her. But Mary was oddly placid— though she was worried about the conversation she was sure that would follow, even though she had no intentions of starting it herself. It had happened... and she had enjoyed herself. Immensely.

Nevertheless, Mary knew she had to leave this bed. With one last, lingering look at Tom, Mary pulled herself out of bed, the arm he had wrapped around her thudding against the mattress. Mary didn't even bother searching for her clothes before she walked into the bathroom.

She stood in front of the mirror, examining herself for any evidence of last night's activities. Everything about her looked the same— no one looking at her would ever know what she had done and who she had done it with. It wasn't until she leaned against the sink to get an even closer look at her face that she felt a slight twinge against her right hip. Mary drew away, noting a small, bluish bruise. She wasn't surprised; she had always bruised easily and it had been known to happen whenever her partner was fairly enthusiastic. Mary could recall a brief moment from the night before where Tom had gripped her there... she closed her eyes, getting sucked into the memory before remembering what she was supposed to be doing. Mary walked over to the shower, turning the water as hot as it would go, gradually scaling back the temperature before stepping in.

After Mary was cleaned, she stepped into the bedroom to grab some clothes, adorned in only a mauve towel. The room was empty, Tom having left ten minutes prior. Mary wasn't certain if she was disappointed or relieved to prolong the inevitable discussion.

She dressed and walked down the stairs, finding Tom and the children at the table. "Good morning," she said brightly, determined to not to let her actions betray the discomfort she was felt. Lord, what was she supposed to say to him now? Everything had changed.

The children suspected nothing was amiss, George excitedly telling her a dream he had about being chased by a dinosaur (which was maybe a sign she shouldn't have allowed him to watch Jurassic Park). Mary could pretend all was as it should be until she met Tom's eyes...and then she froze, remembering everything... and she knew he did too.

She found herself distracted numerous times during breakfast, though she was doing her best to avoid meeting his gaze. When he reached across the table for a napkin, her eyes lingered on his hands, remembering how they had felt against her skin. He ran a hand through his hair at one point to brush back a strand of hair and at once Mary remembered running her hands through it mere hours before. She felt the stirrings of longing for him yet again before cursing herself for it.

Once breakfast was over, Tom casually asked, "Do you mind taking care of the dishes? I've a deadline coming up..."

"Of course," she said quickly, rising to her feet. She walked toward the kitchen, accidentally brushing past him in her haste, a soft gasp escaping her.

"Sorry," Tom said quickly before all but dashing away to the office. Mary blinked rapidly, frozen in place before walking into the kitchen, followed by George and Sybbie.

The rest of the day was in itself fairly tedious but Mary was on edge the entire day, lost in imaginings. The problem was that now that she knew what it was like with Tom and how magical it felt, she couldn't stop thinking about it. How were they expected to move past this? How were things supposed to return to normal?

When lunchtime approached, Mary received a text from Tom informing her that he was still working and would be unable to join them. Mary wondered if it was true or if he was just hellbent on avoiding her. Nevertheless, when the time came, Mary sent Sybbie in with his sandwich instead of daring to go in herself.

When Tom emerged for some tea, Mary at once felt guilty for doubting him. He looked tired and worn out. Mary slipped into the kitchen after him, watching him fill up the kettle. "All done?"

Tom jumped, not noticing there. "Very nearly." He turned back his task. "I just need to finish things up."

Mary nodded, leaning her side against the door, feeling the twinge on her hip. It hit her just then that it was the first time they had been alone together since she'd woken up. "You look exhausted," she said, thinking it was a contrast to how well rested she had felt that morning.

"I feel exhausted," admitted Tom, glancing at her over his shoulder.

"Why don't you take a nap once you're done?" Mary found herself saying.

"What about dinner?"

"I'll order something."

Tom seemed hesitant. "Do you think it's safe?"

"It'll be safer than me trying to cook anything," joked Mary. When Tom didn't smile, she said, "I'll make them drop it off on the doorstep so we don't come into contact with one another."

Tom seemed content with that and soon they settled into easy conversation, as devoid from tension as they had been yesterday. If it weren't for that constant, dull pain whenever she leaned her hip against the door frame, Mary would have been convinced she had dreamed last night.

She kept trying to remind herself, after Tom had gone back to work, that they would inevitably need to talk about it. She figured the only reason they hadn't already was because George and Sybbie were within earshot. Tom wasn't the kind of person to let these things go without discussing it... even though Mary was vainly hoping very much they wouldn't. How could she possibly defend herself?

To be honest, she still wasn't certain why or how things had escalated. Was it just a result of quarantine? Mary wished she could convince herself that was all it was. The horrible truth was that she was wondering if perhaps it wasn't just a random, spontaneous burst of quarantine lust but rather a reflection of deeper feelings. She couldn't deny that she found Tom attractive and there was a certain sort chemistry between them... but that couldn't possibly be it.

Mary was content ignoring her feelings, clamping them down as she busied herself with menial household tasks. She heard Tom walking up the stairs as she finished cleaning the countertops in the kitchen, ordering herself not to look at him... only for her resolve to fail and peek out at him, catching a glimpse of him as he disappeared up the steps. He gaze was directed upward and he looked weary, but Mary couldn't help but find him handsome.

She sighed. Dammit... she'd made a mess, hadn't she?

But, she reminded herself as she turned her task to sweeping the floors, it wasn't just her, was it? Tom had been the one to take things that one step further; he had been the one to ask her. They had both played a part in it...

It wouldn't happen again. It couldn't. Once was just a fluke... Clearly, they had both been overwhelmed and looking for some release. Surely no one could hold it against them? They were living in stressful, unprecedented times and they needed a night unconsumed by it. It was a perfectly normal reaction, but one they were unlikely to succumb to again.

Once the pizza arrived to the house an hour later, Mary climbed the stairs to George's bedroom, where both children were playing. They were excited to learn the pizza was there, and Mary found herself ask, "Will one of you please go wake up your father and let him know?" Both Sybbie and George happily volunteered for the task and Mary found herself sighing with relief as she walked down the stairs.

"You look like you're feeling much better," Mary told Tom once he joined them. He looked less weary, more rested.

"I am." He pulled out his chair, having a seat before leaning across the table for a slice of pizza. He was avoiding eye contact with her... and Mary tried to ignore that hurt she felt welling up inside her. She had thought things were alright between them...

After George and Sybbie had been put to bed, Mary turned to Tom and said, "I'm going to bed now."

"Alright," he replied, still with that strange coolness she wasn't used to. She didn't like it one bit... and she disliked it even more when she realized it wasn't at all dissimilar to her own aloofness. She immediately felt sorry for anyone on other side of it. "I'll be up in a while."

A while meant a little under half an hour. By that point, Mary was in bed, eyes closed but her mind wide awake. She keep hoping she would slip into slumber, just to avoid any awkwardness, only for the door to open. She pretended to be asleep as he carried out his nightly routine. When he rejoined her in the bed, she was more awake than ever and not in the most comfortable of positions. With a soft sigh, she rolled onto her back.

"Sorry," Tom whispered. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's alright. I wasn't asleep yet anyway."

"Are you tired?"

And somehow Mary knew what he was really asking. "No," she whispered back, heart rate quickening in anticipation. "I'm not tired at all."

There was a still moment before they moved at the same time, lips crashing together and hands reaching out desperately.