Well well well...second to last chapter.
What else to say? Enjoy!
A few days later, when Gillian walked inside Cal's hospital room she nearly had a panic attack.
The bed was empty, the linen tossed aside and one of the pillows was on the floor. Her eyes immediately scanned the rest of the room, for a moment expecting - and fearing - to find nefarious clues such as blood or signs of a struggle, confused instead to see the small beside closet open and with the personal belongings Zoe had brought from his house.
She was just about ready to run out of the room and grab a nurse to ask what was going on, when the toilet flushed in the bathroom. For some reason, Gillian found the sound somewhat unfamiliar despite knowing full well what it was, and mostly didn't quite know what to make of it. Careful, no longer worried but curious instead, she approached the closed door of the bathroom and listened to muffled sounds of grunts and running water, then softly knocked.
"Cal?" She asked, although by then she was fairly sure who was on the other side.
"In the flesh!" His cheerful voice boomed from behind the door, and with that the last slug of her fear was gone.
"Did you get there on your own?"
"Yes, but if I'd known you were coming I would have waited for you and let you help me."
Gillian smiled at his remark, adding a bit of a blushing to it for some reasons.
"Are you decent?" She asked then.
"Decent? How dare you?!" He spat back, faking insult in his voice in an hilarious way. "Never!"
She was pretty much laughing now, and no matter how much have improved on all fronts recently, that was something she hadn't been able to do yet. Laughing freely, with him since she was sure Cal was getting there too on the other side of the door, suddenly felt a whole new experience.
"Alright then," she quipped once she was done laughing. "I'm coming in."
Then she tried the handle, not surprised to find the door unlocked, and opened it slowly. Cal was standing by the sink, his neck stretched forward so he could take a better look at his reflection in the mirror. He was standing, which was monumental to her, and it didn't matter much that he needed the support of a couple of crutches in order to do so. He was still wearing the hospital gown, and a pair of pyjama bottoms that looked two sizes too big, probably so that it could accommodate the cast on his right leg.
From behind, Gillian took in a long and detailed view, simply mesmerised by the fact that only a couple of weeks after his ordeal he was able to do so. And he was making it look damn easy and natural too, standing there with the right hand on the crutch and the left moving his face around as if he was getting ready for a good shave. Which was something he sure could have used with that longer stubble of him getting out of control. Or maybe not, Gillian thought, barely aware of how attentively she was admiring his new facial feature.
She had to force herself to blink and break that visual spell, but she knew it had been a fraction too late when she caught Cal looking at her through the mirror, grinning teasingly. Gillian looked away, that flash of redness coming up to her cheeks again, but it was only for a second and when she looked up again Cal had turned around, leaning back on the sink for support and leaving the crutches on the side.
"They let you out of bed," she noted, unable to come up with anything else for the time being.
"It was either that or go out of my mind," Cal answered with a smirk. "It was driving me nuts, not to mention bed sores on my b-"
"Ok, I think I got the picture!" Gillian stopped him with an eye roll, then stared at him from top to bottom. "You look a lot better since yesterday."
"I feel it too, the more I am able to do the better I feel. And I knew you'd come earlier today, being Saturday and all that."
Gillian didn't blush this time, but his words still got to her big time. It was in his voice, soft and sweet, in those simple words to let her know unequivocally how much he had been looking forward to seeing her. It was in the fact that he kept opening up, sharing how he felt and how he was doing, almost relentlessly although with the best intentions. She was aware of it, she understood why; Cal had already told her he loved her, more than once and with a disarming ease someone else might have barely noticed how serious he was, and compared to that letting her know he was feeling better must feel like a walk in the park. Then she suddenly became aware of something else, something that made her body temperature spike up and her legs going a little weak under her. They were standing, facing each other, close to each other in a small place with a door that could indeed be locked if needed be. It wasn't the first time they had been like that, standing in front of each other was as natural for them as it was for any human beings…but it was the first time since things had started to change between them in a way they could no longer ignore, the first time since she had gotten him back, the first time Gillian felt safe enough to come closer and touch him without causing him pain of any kind.
She stepped forward, without thinking much and instead just going with the flow. Cal managed not to grin, afraid such an obviously pleased reaction might stop whatever she was about to do, and just stood there as she stood inches away from him, her right arm sneaking around his waist and the right hand resting on his chest. Then that climbed up to his neck while she rested her forehead on his, her body gently pressing against him and naturally adjusting when he put his arm around her, her fingers finding the spot by his ear. Cal smirked when she did that but she didn't see it because her eyes were closed, so that she could fully take in the powerful intimacy of the moment and focus on his hand resting on the small of her back, the tip of his fingers just about brushing a little lower.
"You know you don't need to do that anymore, right love?"
It was barely a whisper coming from him, but with his face so close it had the impact of a nuclear fallout. Gillian felt it, his breath on her face with a touch of mint as she realised he must have brushed his teeth, his scent assaulting her nostrils and, when she opened her eyes, his eyes capturing her soul.
And she understood he was right.
That little silly gesture had started as a silent declaration, as a way to express how she felt about him without taking the chance to say too much and, in the early days, to hurt him physically. Then, it had also been a way to show him she was already there, the same place he was, but that she was still fighting to free herself from the idea they had gotten there because of something so terrible. But that was then, two weeks ago that felt like a whole life cycle and then some: things had changed, things had found a meaning beyond what Warton had done to them and, in a way, what they had done too.
Gillian opened her eyes, not looking at him but just focusing on his mouth, her hand eventually leaving his ear to move to his lips. She brushed them once, feeling somewhat empowered by the way his body shivered with anticipation, then she waited no longer. Gillian leaned forward and gently pressed her lips to his, holding the upper hand and initiating the kiss. It started slow, not because they had any doubts but because it was a moment to cherish, it was a new way of being them and being the control freaks they both were they had to make sure they were doing it right. Then it was no longer just lips, it was tongues dancing and hands gripping, it was bodies pressing against each other and completely abandoning to the sensations of something they had put off for far too long.
Their first kiss was everything they had imagined, before becoming everything they had expected.
The pace quickened, the wanton became stronger, the kiss went from testing expectations to fulfilling desires and curiosities that had been silent for a long time. Cal's hands clang on her shoulders, Gillian's body heavily pressed on his and he leaned further back and her fingers got lost in his hair as he deepened the kiss until she moaned loudly in his mouth.
That was it for Cal, at least for now, because no matter how good he felt that day he still didn't feel good enough. His mind wanted to hold her, push her up against the wall and get rid of the extra layers of clothing between them, but his recovering body was yelling 'hold on a minute' in a very eloquent way. They broke apart from the kiss because the need of oxygen was something they could not overlook anymore, and Cal smirked sadly as if to apologise for not being able to take things further. Lust and desire could only take him so far, because the reality was that he wasn't supposed to stand on his cast for long and that he had spent so much time lying in a bed that being on his feet made him dizzy.
He was the first one to pull back, a strange balancing act since she had been the one starting it, but the expressions on their faces said that both things were good, more than ok. And long overdue. Gillian lingered on for a bit, stretching her neck forward when he pulled away not wanting to lose the contact, and her mouth deviated to his neck for a while as she whispered 'I love you too' a few times in between light touches of her lips on his skin.
Being discharged from the hospital was a blessing. Even with the limitations of the cast on his leg and the crutches, with the long list of recommendations from the doctors and an assortment of medications to last him a lifetime, being able to finally go home was nearly overwhelming.
Zoe and Rudi had long gone, perfectly within their rights to return to their lives once his had gotten back on track, leaving Emily behind. Gillian had offered accommodation for her but the girl had stood her ground; she was old enough to be home alone, she would spend most the time at the hospital anyway and Cal wasn't going to be hospitalised for long.
Cal wasn't entirely happy with that; no matter how better he felt on all levels he didn't like the idea of his daughter having to look after him, and quite frankly since he and Gillian had taken the last step he had been lulled by the idea of the two of them finally being able to spend some quality time together. They still did, of course. Much like before she would come to see him in the afternoon after work, so that she could relieve Emily from the self imposed duty and do what she had been looking forward to all day long: spend time with him.
After that odd but beautiful moment in the bathroom - a hospital bathroom of all places - there had been no turning back. They hadn't bothered telling people outright, not even Emily; they had just gone with it doing what they felt like and leaving people to draw their own conclusion, caring very little whether their reaction was shock, surprise, doubt or the most popular 'about time!'. Of course, Emily was all for it and had not so subtly hinted that she might as well move in with them for a little while, not understanding why they both opposed it. In a way, they didn't know it either but it felt like the best thing to do despite the recent developments.
Truth to be told, having some time apart was necessary because now that they had committed to a proper relationship keeping their hands off each other was a struggle. Nothing wrong with that per se, they just had to be careful and exercise some self-control when Emily was around…except she was around a lot, barely leaving the house since she was cramming for her finals and, not that she had said out loud, she had troubles leaving her father out of her sight. As far as she was concerned, the last time she had left the house her dad had gone through hell and back, and it was a little too much for her to deal with. They didn't try to call her out on that, knowing where it came from and that eventually she'd started to go back to normal like everyone else, and instead decided to accommodate her need to process things in her own way.
So they would dance around her, in many ways. They would get some time together before dinner, chatting away about work mostly because he hardly had anything interesting to share, hanging around the kitchen. They would be close, standing or seating, whether they were talking, going over some work stuff or preparing food. It always started innocent enough, but eventually the desire to touch would get too strong. A hand sneaking around the waist or sliding on a leg, lips wandering on cheeks or necks, mouths eventually finding each other, body temperature raising. Then they would break apart, smiling but painfully acknowledging they had to press pause, because Emily could walk in on them at any minute and because logistics were not on their side.
They had tried, boy had they! Gillian had spent the night a couple of times, but sharing the bed hadn't been easy. Cal could really only sleep on his back most of the time, and the cast on his leg was a chunky and heavy affair with the tendency to get in the way. Of course, there were plenty of things they could have done but they chose not to, electing to wait for the all inclusive option instead. Still, usually after dinner they would move to the couch and watch TV or a movie, sometimes with Emily even though she knew better to make herself scarce after a while. That was when it became harder to resist temptation, when the kissing turned to heavy make out and gentle caressing became passionate groping.
Then, the cast came off.
After weeks, saying goodbye to the crutches had felt like a liberation. Being able to take a shower on his own had been incredible and overall Cal was happy to be fully himself again. The only thing he was keeping from that experience was the beard, having noticed how often Gillian's eyes and hands lingered on it and how she would brush her own face against it. And he was planning to make good use of that fondness as soon as he had the chance.