Caroline and the Unfortunate Circumstance
Chapter Nine: Without a Net
By S. Arallion
Disclaimer: All characters in this story are owned by their respective copyright holders—namely, not myself. Anything you don't recognize is my fault. I make absolutely no profit from my use of these characters. ~~Arallion
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Caroline bolted up from the nest of blankets and stomped to the door, hanging halfway out into the hallway. Richard sat up nervously as well. He couldn't see what Caroline was doing, but from the way her stocking-clad toes twitched, he guessed that she and Annie were engaging in some form of soundless communication. This usually involved horrendous facial contortions and exaggerated attempts at lip-readable speech, and he could normally figure out what they were trying to do quite easily. Unfortunately, when all one had to go by was a twitching leg, it was beyond him.
Finally, she pulled back into the room. She closed the door with a deliberate motion, turning to put her back against it and rub her forehead with one hand, eyes downcast. When she finally looked up at him, she looked instantly concerned.
"Richard, I am so sorry. Here you were being so nice to me, and then Annie had to come in and make a big scene…"
"No, no, that's all right, Caroline," he sighed. "I'll just have to move to a new neighborhood, change my name, get a new job—hey, you wouldn't happen to have a paper bag I could put over my head on the way out, would you?"
Caroline's grey eyes looked stricken as she stared at him.
Perhaps that hadn't been the best humor, under the circumstances. "Caroline. That was a joke."
She continued to stare at him, as if she hadn't heard. "You—you don't really mean that, do you? You wouldn't really want to get a new job, Richard—not over this?"
Richard groaned internally, picked up his pillow, and very deliberately whacked himself in the face with it. Caroline's expression, which had been slowly crumbling into sadness, quirked into confusion.
"What did you do that for?"
"Because," the artist winced, readjusting the wire frames on his nose, "I deserved it."
She blinked, and pushed herself away from the door, stepping closer to the couch. "Please don't joke about something like that, Richard. I couldn't stand it if you felt you had to leave because of this."
He regarded her owlishly over the rims of his glasses as she sat down on the couch, near him. "Is it really that difficult to find someone to color in your pictures?"
Scowling, she poked him in the shoulder. "You know what I mean."
They stared at each other for a moment in breathless silence.
"Do I know what you mean?" Richard wondered aloud, in a soft tone. He flushed and looked down suddenly, taking off his glasses and wiping them attentively.
Caroline's voice was equally soft. "It's really that difficult to find someone who is as good of a friend as you've been to me."
"I'm not a good friend," the artist scoffed automatically. But it was so nice to have someone think of you that way…
"You are a good friend," she said forcefully, and he looked up into her grey gaze, her lovely brow slightly furrowed with the effort she was putting forth to break through his self-pity.
Years of conditioning made him choke on the words, but he had to respond. "Thank you for—believing that about me." The next part was easier. "But you're the one who's been the true friend. You put up with me." His smile was only partially forced.
She raised an eyebrow at him. "Put up with you? Oh, yes, I guess there was that time with the—" The mischievous smirk crept onto her face for a moment as he began to look crestfallen. "But it looks like Salty's forgiven you for that," she grinned as the cat stretched out a paw from her lazy position on the couch, to attempt to play with Richard's glasses. "And that's what I mean… like what we were talking about, before we were so rudely interrupted. I never expected you to go so far out of your way to help me feel better, but you did. Without even thinking about it. You've been a wonderful friend to me..."
Richard fended off Salty's paws, trying not to become flustered by the compliments, but there was something missing at the end of Caroline's statement. Something… implied. He looked up at her despite himself.
Her eyes were very wide, as if she were struggling to say—or not say—something.
Richard swallowed hard. This felt a little like how it felt to put the first daubs of paint on a canvas, a dizzying, yet somehow freeing sensation which he'd always imagined to be similar to that of a tightrope walker working without a net. If you didn't say, "oh well, what the hell" you never got anywhere. Clearing his throat, he managed to say, "And?"
She closed her eyes briefly. "And I was wondering if there might be…"
It was far too good to be true, after all that had happened. No safety net. Once the paint is placed, there's no turning back, a little, cynical part of his mind shrieked at him. Placing his hand gently on Caroline's flannel-covered knee, he told that part of his mind very firmly to shut up.
Caroline opened her eyes, startled at the contact. Richard's eyes were fixed on her face, little defensive lines crinkling at the corners. She slowly finished her sentence, and watched the lines smooth away with each syllable as he voiced them with her, in unison. "….something more?"
Richard felt suddenly disembodied. He watched disbelievingly as Caroline reached out with her hand—her perfect, fine-boned, delicate hand—to touch his cheek. He leaned into the soft warmth of her palm, closing his eyes. The irreverent and bitterly cynical part of his mind ranted away in the background. This can't be real. I'm still sleeping on the floor. Worse, I'm in my own apartment, and I'm cuddling up to a rat.
"Richard?"
His eyes flew open, and he made a questioning noise, unable to speak. It wasn't his apartment, it was hers. Caroline was still there, looking nervous and fragile. Salty was chewing on his glasses.
"Do you feel that way too?" she asked softly. Richard raised an exasperated eyebrow, causing her to chuckle at herself. "Okay, okay, I get the impression that you think that's a silly question. But you haven't said anything— "
"I don't want to ruin it," he interrupted with an urgent tone. "Really, Caroline, I've been trying to figure out if this is real or if I'm still asleep…. I really hope that I'm not still asleep."
"You're not asleep," she whispered, leaning forward and pushing her hand back through his rumpled blond hair, ending with her lips so close to his that if he moved ever so slightly, he would kiss her.
Which he did.
It wasn't a long kiss, or a deep kiss. Just a soft brushing of the skin of their lips. Despite that, the kiss was more electrifying than any of the "passionate Italian kisses" Richard had experienced, and he was instantly tingling with excitement. Caroline's eyes slowly opened again, glimmering with emotion, and her lips curved in the tiny smile he adored so much.
"That was nice," she whispered.
"That was more than nice," he replied breathlessly.
"I like how you look without your glasses," she murmured, her eyes seeming to try to memorize every detail of his face. He noticed, because he was trying to do the same thing.
The compliment made him blush and stammer, though. "I—ah—thank you."
Caroline smiled at him and kissed his nose lightly. "You're welcome. You'd better get used to that, I'm afraid. If I'm allowed to give you compliments all the time, you can bet you'll be receiving them."
"I'll try," he responded with a wry look. "It's not like I could get my glasses back right now anyway." He shot a glance at the very awake and alert cat, who was encircling his glasses with her paws, purring in a self-satisfied manner.
Caroline sighed suddenly, and dropped her face into the hollow of his neck. "I hope this doesn't complicate things too much," she mumbled from the area of his collarbone.
"Caroline, what could possibly be complicated about this situation?"
She poked him in the ribs for the sarcastic tone. "I don't know, Richard, I've never wanted to date—no, I take that back. I've never actually dated my assistant before. I've wanted to, for a long time."
The soft confession provoked a comforting squeeze, as Richard sat with his arms loosely encircling her shoulders. "I guess there could be all sorts of things wrong with it," he admitted. "But I'm willing to sign just about anything to give it a try, now that I know you're willing."
She turned in his arms to smile up at him. "No matter what happens, Richard, I'll always do my best to be your friend and look out for you."
"You sound as cautious as I do," Richard muttered, giving her a thoughtful glance.
"Well, a lot has happened," she said, pulling back from him to look him in the face. "I guess I don't have as much faith in sincere amore as I used to. But I do believe in you," she finished with another tiny smile.
"I'm glad one of us does," the artist sighed. "And I believe in you—more than you could ever imagine."
Caroline made a small noise of surprise, and grinned. "Awww, Richard—now you're making me blush." She snuggled close to him again.
"Fair's fair," he quipped. Her hair tickled his cheek, much the way it had earlier in the morning, but this time it was different. Everything was so different. He caught his breath with a sudden thought.
"What's wrong?" Caroline looked at him worriedly.
"Do you think you might be able to spring for some more Cadmium Red Light pigment?"
She blinked in confusion. "Why, and why are you asking me now?"
"Because it's your fault that everything I paint from now on is going to be seen through rose-colored glasses." He gave her a bland look, that soon dissolved into a smirk as she started giggling uncontrollably.
"Well, fair is fair," he continued, and then yelped as she started to tickle him.
"I'll give you fair," Caroline gasped, skittering after him as he tried to make a getaway. She was quite a bit more athletic than he was, so he ended up tangled in the blankets while she managed to find all the worst spots imaginable to tickle. Finally he lay there on the floor, as helpless and pathetic-looking as he could be, hoping that she'd take pity on him.
She made a funny noise and looked startled. "Oh n-hic!-no!"
"Hiccups?" he surmised with relief.
"Yes—hic! But I'll be back," she warned, pointing a menacing finger at him as she dashed for the refrigerator, hiccupping the whole way.
Richard took the opportunity to put his shirt back on.
"What is that?" Caroline pointed at the shirt, as she came back carrying a glass of water. She handed the water to him and he sipped gratefully.
"It's a shirt," he replied, after swallowing.
"What's it doing on you?" She gave him an impish look.
"Um…"
"Does it need to be there?"
"Well, no…" Richard was having trouble thinking of anything to say. After all, it seemed like she was asking him to take his clothes off.
"So when I get back, maybe it won't be there?" The look was no longer impish, as she returned to the kitchen to get her own glass of water. It didn't appear to have been a question.
Richard took his shirt off again—after all, it was dirty. He sorted out the blankets a little, and curled back up against the couch. His gaze fell on Salty, who was happily rubbing her cheek against his glasses frames. "Is she like this with other guys?" he muttered to the cat.
Salty purred and blinked innocently at him.
"No, just with you, now," the liquid silver voice of his beloved Caroline whispered in his ear, as she poured over the back of the couch and curled her arms around him, resting her hands on his chest and her head on his shoulder. He reached back despite himself and ran his hand through her light copper hair, turning to kiss her lightly again.
"You know, I'm glad we had this little talk," he said, with a glint of humor in his eyes at the massive understatement.
Caroline dimpled at him and shifted position to slide down onto the floor next to him. "Me too. And I expect we'll have lots more to talk about—later." She cuddled up to him, a warm, lithe bundle of energy.
Richard took a deep breath of wonderful, Caroline-scented air. "Later?" She looked at him with a raised eyebrow, and he had to take another breath to steady himself. "We're not going to get walked in on again, are we?" He had to say it—not very romantic, but he didn't think he could handle being interrupted by Annie again this day.
Caroline winked at him and pointed to the table, where she'd set a familiar-looking door key. Richard's eyes widened, and a pleasant flutter began in the pit of his stomach.
"In that case, could we make that… much later?"
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Finis
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Author's Note: Thank you to all who read and reviewed… I'm very glad my first posting wasn't a crashing bore. J Take care, and happy writing! ~~Arallion