Calleigh catches me sometime, corners me really.
Everyone's been cornering me lately.
Well--not lately. It's been two days since that--whole thing. The
second night H came over to my place again, and then last night I was
over with him. And H doesn't corner me now. Backs me into a wall,
sure, covers my body with his, fucks me senseless, holds me close.
But doesn't corner me--doesn't *trap* me. He did the first night
because I was avoiding him, and maybe it's something like instinct
born of experience, but he trapped me with words like he does with a
suspect. Sort of weirdly thrilling, in a vague and not-quite-
masochistic way.
Calleigh, though, cocks her hand and anchors her hands on her hips
and looks up at me, expectant. It's not like I'm not used to it--
we've taken to alternately mocking and being friendly with each
other. And, it being early yet, I'm still high on last night and, as
usual (it's usual now?) doing my damndest to hide it.
"Hey, Speed."
"Hey."
"You been seein' Megan?"
That twinges, almost like when someone reels their hand back to slap
you, but doesn't and you flinch anyway. Like that. "Uhh...n-no."
Well, that sounded intelligent, Speedy boy. Nice one. I swallow
hard. "Why?"
"Oh, nothing. It's just you been so happy, I figured you had to be
getting it with someone."
Ooooh, *that* hurts. Ow. Worse than I thought it would. It didn't
before. I mean, we've--I've--it's--the words come barking out my
mouth before I can stop them. "Fuck off, Cal. Mind your own damn
business." Harsh as a rusting chain or a a starving dog. Stupid
brain. Stupid stupid stupid brain. God *dammit*.
She looks startled. Startled and hurt.
Funny how my mouth keeps getting me screwed.
"Okay, then."
"Cal, m'sorry..." I mutter lamely.
She's gone off, though, back to her case, leaving me lost and feeling
like a total idiot.
I shove my hands in my pockets and wander off down the hall. Back to
my own case, back to Horatio, back to evidence and facts and things
*I* control, not my stupid mouth or my own desperation.
God *dammit*.
Everyone's been cornering me lately.
Well--not lately. It's been two days since that--whole thing. The
second night H came over to my place again, and then last night I was
over with him. And H doesn't corner me now. Backs me into a wall,
sure, covers my body with his, fucks me senseless, holds me close.
But doesn't corner me--doesn't *trap* me. He did the first night
because I was avoiding him, and maybe it's something like instinct
born of experience, but he trapped me with words like he does with a
suspect. Sort of weirdly thrilling, in a vague and not-quite-
masochistic way.
Calleigh, though, cocks her hand and anchors her hands on her hips
and looks up at me, expectant. It's not like I'm not used to it--
we've taken to alternately mocking and being friendly with each
other. And, it being early yet, I'm still high on last night and, as
usual (it's usual now?) doing my damndest to hide it.
"Hey, Speed."
"Hey."
"You been seein' Megan?"
That twinges, almost like when someone reels their hand back to slap
you, but doesn't and you flinch anyway. Like that. "Uhh...n-no."
Well, that sounded intelligent, Speedy boy. Nice one. I swallow
hard. "Why?"
"Oh, nothing. It's just you been so happy, I figured you had to be
getting it with someone."
Ooooh, *that* hurts. Ow. Worse than I thought it would. It didn't
before. I mean, we've--I've--it's--the words come barking out my
mouth before I can stop them. "Fuck off, Cal. Mind your own damn
business." Harsh as a rusting chain or a a starving dog. Stupid
brain. Stupid stupid stupid brain. God *dammit*.
She looks startled. Startled and hurt.
Funny how my mouth keeps getting me screwed.
"Okay, then."
"Cal, m'sorry..." I mutter lamely.
She's gone off, though, back to her case, leaving me lost and feeling
like a total idiot.
I shove my hands in my pockets and wander off down the hall. Back to
my own case, back to Horatio, back to evidence and facts and things
*I* control, not my stupid mouth or my own desperation.
God *dammit*.