Title: The Open Road
Author: Kaitlyn
Summary: "I've got some beer and the highway's free, and I got you and baby you got me."
Rating: PG-13
****************************************************************************
He turned the key in the lock and stepped into the apartment. They had not spoken since they left the restaurant. She had been in an almost hypnotic trance the entire way. She wouldn't even look at him, which, in turn, made him ashamed to look at her. So they made their way across town and up the stairs to their apartment without even the slightest acknowledgement that the other existed. He knew he should say something- anything at this point- but the more time that elapsed without spoken words, the less adequate each word that he could have said would have seemed.
When they entered the apartment, Rachel went straight for the bedroom, shedding her coat along the way. Ross folded his jacket across the back of the couch and threw his keys on the end table by the door. Letting out an exasperated breath, he went for the answering machine.
"You've reached Ross and Rachel. We aren't here right not, but leave a short message and we'll get back to you." He smiled. Somehow, hearing their names together like that still did something to him, even after all these years.
"Hi guys, it's me!" Monica's voice resounded over the apartment. "I hope your dinner went well! Call me when you get this! Bye!" The smile disappeared from his face. Without giving even the slightest consideration to calling his sister back, he removed his tie and carried it, along with his coat, back to the bedroom.
Rachel wasn't there. He knew she wouldn't be. That's the only reason he had even considered entering. She was already in the shower. He set the jacket and tie down in a chair and preceded to remove the rest of his clothing. He knew that attempting to join her in the shower wasn't even a possibility tonight, so he resigned himself to heading straight to bed. There was nothing else he could say to her. When this was resolved, if it was ever really resolved, it would be by her standards and on her time.
He began unbuttoning the dress shirt, finding himself frustrated at the fastidiousness of it. Too many damn buttons, he thought. By the time he had discarded it, and had already begun to work on his belt, he heard the bathroom door open. His heart skipped a beat. He couldn't explain it, but what he was feeling could really only be descried as fear. He was a dear in the headlights, finding himself completely incapable of even moving. His back was to the door, so he couldn't tell exactly where she was, but he could feel her eyes on him. Something told him she was standing in the doorway, staring at him. Call it a feeling.
Slowly, he turned around. And there she stood. She was wearing a white silk robe and a white terrycloth towel on her head. In the dim lighting, her skin looked flawless and soft. What could he say? She looked like an angel. She was starring intensely at him, giving him a look that he could only associate with one other time during their history- that night when they had shared their first kiss. The way she had looked at him through those two glass doors of the coffee house, with such pain and longing on her face, was exactly the way she was looking at him now. And it killed him.
"Hi," he managed, his voice coming out soft and flat. She said nothing, but only drew her lower lip into her mouth, the way she did when she was nervous. She furrowed her brow, almost as if she had momentarily forgotten what that word meant. It was the standoff to beat all standoffs.
"Are you done with the shower?" Classic Ross tactic- when you don't know what to say, avoid the situation all together. She blinked, nodding slightly. Her eyes did not leave his, though, and he was finding himself entranced by her. They were so big and blue. He had absolutely no idea what she was thinking.
"Rach, I..." This time, he had not been cut off. He simply didn't know how he was going to finish the sentence. He did that a lot- starting thoughts with absolutely no idea of how to finish them. She continued her primitive stare, though, never once faltering or removing her eyes from his. That's it, he thought. This was real- this argument- and so there was no reason for them NOT to be real when they were confronting it. He let out a big puff of air, throwing his hands in the air.
"Rachel, I don't know what to say, okay ?" This caught her attention. She had not been expecting that someone volatile outburst. She withdrew slightly, subconsciously tightening her road around her.
"I'm sorry. I know I say that a lot, but that's how I feel- sorry. I'm sorry that I acted like such an idiot and embarrassed you in front of your father. I'm sorry that I insulted him and was insensitive to the situation. I'm sorry that I made a scene." He was on a roll now. Everything that he had wanted to say before was coming back to him in waves. To capitalize on his point, he too another step towards her with each statement. Before he knew it, he was standing before her. He lowered his voice but still kept his eyes nailed to hers.
"But you know what I'm not sorry for, Rach? I'm not sorry that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I'm not sorry that I get defensive when it come to you and our relationship. And I'm not sorry that your father hates me..." This last one caught her off guard, causing her to frown at him and retreat backwards once more. But he had been prepared for that, and he stepped into as she retreated, continuing their dance in perfect timing. He grabbed her wrist, partly out of pure adrenaline and partly to insure that she would not leave before he could finish. He lowered his head so that he was face to face with his, breathing softly against her cheek.
"because I'm not sorry that I'M that boy who got you to love him as much as you love your father. I'll be sorry for a lot of things until the day I die, Rachel, but I will never be sorry for that. Never." There were tears in her eyes, now, but he could tell that they weren't sad tears. They weren't really happy, either, though. They were tears derived from so many emotions that he could not pinpoint even one of them, but something told him that they weren't bad. He pulled back slightly, allowing her some of her personal space. He inhaled deeply.
"And if that's not okay...Well, then I'm sorry for that, too." He turned to walk back towards the bed, but it was she who grabbed his wrist this time. She had her eyes fixated on his chest now, searching for the right words to say. Finally, she looked back up into his eyes. For the first time since they'd left the restaurant, she smiled at him.
"It's okay." He smiled. Time to breath again, he thought. It's going to be okay. She wasn't done, though. She removed her hand from his wrist and slide both of them up his chest, stepping in closer to him. She did this a lot when they were talking about really important, emotional things. It was her way of letting him know that she still loved him while, at the same time, needed to get something off her chest. She was still looking him in the eye. He couldn't remember ever looking at ANYONE in the eye for this long.
"But he is my father, Ross. I know he's an impossible man. He's stubborn, and irrational, and...difficult. But he is my father, and I love him. And he loves me. And as much as I love you and care about you, you are just going to have to understand that." He nodded, understandingly.
"Besides," she continued, a little less intensely this time. "I seem to know someone else who isn't really all that different from him." Ross cocked an eyebrow, looking doubtfully at her. He wrapped his arms around her warmly, though. He had been dying to touch her all night, if only to insure himself that she was still his and that she forgave him. He ran his hands up and down her back.
"Oh, come one! I am not difficult!" She let out a short laugh, silently begging to differ, but nevertheless burying her head in his chest. He kissed her forehead and playfully tugged on the sash of her robe.
"Come on," he provoked. "Let's get some sleep."
"Sleep?" she asked, grinning from ear to ear. "Is that REALLY want you want to get some of?" With this, he scooped her up and flung her over his shoulder, carrying her over to the bed and plopping her down. She squealed and giggled the entire way, opening her arms and welcoming him when he scooted up her body and laid down on top of her, resting his head on her chest. She brushed his hair with one hand and rubbed the other up and down his back. It wasn't until that moment that he realized just how tired he actually was.
"You going to change into your pajamas, Ross?" He grunted an almost indecipherable "no", which actually came out more as "neh", before wiggling the sheets up around their bodies. She removed the towel from around her head, triggering an idea within him. He untied the sash on her silken robe, knowing that the energy it would take it remove it completely would be impossible, but settling for merely opening it so that he could lay against her bare skin. It still amazed him at how soft she was. He was half-asleep within seconds, but Rachel still laid awake, pondering something that had occurred to her only moments before, but she couldn't shake the idea.
"Honey?" she asked, squeezing his bicep to get his attention.
"Heh?" he grunted.
"What do you think about eloping?"
End chapter 8. To be continued in Chapter 9...
Author: Kaitlyn
Summary: "I've got some beer and the highway's free, and I got you and baby you got me."
Rating: PG-13
****************************************************************************
He turned the key in the lock and stepped into the apartment. They had not spoken since they left the restaurant. She had been in an almost hypnotic trance the entire way. She wouldn't even look at him, which, in turn, made him ashamed to look at her. So they made their way across town and up the stairs to their apartment without even the slightest acknowledgement that the other existed. He knew he should say something- anything at this point- but the more time that elapsed without spoken words, the less adequate each word that he could have said would have seemed.
When they entered the apartment, Rachel went straight for the bedroom, shedding her coat along the way. Ross folded his jacket across the back of the couch and threw his keys on the end table by the door. Letting out an exasperated breath, he went for the answering machine.
"You've reached Ross and Rachel. We aren't here right not, but leave a short message and we'll get back to you." He smiled. Somehow, hearing their names together like that still did something to him, even after all these years.
"Hi guys, it's me!" Monica's voice resounded over the apartment. "I hope your dinner went well! Call me when you get this! Bye!" The smile disappeared from his face. Without giving even the slightest consideration to calling his sister back, he removed his tie and carried it, along with his coat, back to the bedroom.
Rachel wasn't there. He knew she wouldn't be. That's the only reason he had even considered entering. She was already in the shower. He set the jacket and tie down in a chair and preceded to remove the rest of his clothing. He knew that attempting to join her in the shower wasn't even a possibility tonight, so he resigned himself to heading straight to bed. There was nothing else he could say to her. When this was resolved, if it was ever really resolved, it would be by her standards and on her time.
He began unbuttoning the dress shirt, finding himself frustrated at the fastidiousness of it. Too many damn buttons, he thought. By the time he had discarded it, and had already begun to work on his belt, he heard the bathroom door open. His heart skipped a beat. He couldn't explain it, but what he was feeling could really only be descried as fear. He was a dear in the headlights, finding himself completely incapable of even moving. His back was to the door, so he couldn't tell exactly where she was, but he could feel her eyes on him. Something told him she was standing in the doorway, staring at him. Call it a feeling.
Slowly, he turned around. And there she stood. She was wearing a white silk robe and a white terrycloth towel on her head. In the dim lighting, her skin looked flawless and soft. What could he say? She looked like an angel. She was starring intensely at him, giving him a look that he could only associate with one other time during their history- that night when they had shared their first kiss. The way she had looked at him through those two glass doors of the coffee house, with such pain and longing on her face, was exactly the way she was looking at him now. And it killed him.
"Hi," he managed, his voice coming out soft and flat. She said nothing, but only drew her lower lip into her mouth, the way she did when she was nervous. She furrowed her brow, almost as if she had momentarily forgotten what that word meant. It was the standoff to beat all standoffs.
"Are you done with the shower?" Classic Ross tactic- when you don't know what to say, avoid the situation all together. She blinked, nodding slightly. Her eyes did not leave his, though, and he was finding himself entranced by her. They were so big and blue. He had absolutely no idea what she was thinking.
"Rach, I..." This time, he had not been cut off. He simply didn't know how he was going to finish the sentence. He did that a lot- starting thoughts with absolutely no idea of how to finish them. She continued her primitive stare, though, never once faltering or removing her eyes from his. That's it, he thought. This was real- this argument- and so there was no reason for them NOT to be real when they were confronting it. He let out a big puff of air, throwing his hands in the air.
"Rachel, I don't know what to say, okay ?" This caught her attention. She had not been expecting that someone volatile outburst. She withdrew slightly, subconsciously tightening her road around her.
"I'm sorry. I know I say that a lot, but that's how I feel- sorry. I'm sorry that I acted like such an idiot and embarrassed you in front of your father. I'm sorry that I insulted him and was insensitive to the situation. I'm sorry that I made a scene." He was on a roll now. Everything that he had wanted to say before was coming back to him in waves. To capitalize on his point, he too another step towards her with each statement. Before he knew it, he was standing before her. He lowered his voice but still kept his eyes nailed to hers.
"But you know what I'm not sorry for, Rach? I'm not sorry that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I'm not sorry that I get defensive when it come to you and our relationship. And I'm not sorry that your father hates me..." This last one caught her off guard, causing her to frown at him and retreat backwards once more. But he had been prepared for that, and he stepped into as she retreated, continuing their dance in perfect timing. He grabbed her wrist, partly out of pure adrenaline and partly to insure that she would not leave before he could finish. He lowered his head so that he was face to face with his, breathing softly against her cheek.
"because I'm not sorry that I'M that boy who got you to love him as much as you love your father. I'll be sorry for a lot of things until the day I die, Rachel, but I will never be sorry for that. Never." There were tears in her eyes, now, but he could tell that they weren't sad tears. They weren't really happy, either, though. They were tears derived from so many emotions that he could not pinpoint even one of them, but something told him that they weren't bad. He pulled back slightly, allowing her some of her personal space. He inhaled deeply.
"And if that's not okay...Well, then I'm sorry for that, too." He turned to walk back towards the bed, but it was she who grabbed his wrist this time. She had her eyes fixated on his chest now, searching for the right words to say. Finally, she looked back up into his eyes. For the first time since they'd left the restaurant, she smiled at him.
"It's okay." He smiled. Time to breath again, he thought. It's going to be okay. She wasn't done, though. She removed her hand from his wrist and slide both of them up his chest, stepping in closer to him. She did this a lot when they were talking about really important, emotional things. It was her way of letting him know that she still loved him while, at the same time, needed to get something off her chest. She was still looking him in the eye. He couldn't remember ever looking at ANYONE in the eye for this long.
"But he is my father, Ross. I know he's an impossible man. He's stubborn, and irrational, and...difficult. But he is my father, and I love him. And he loves me. And as much as I love you and care about you, you are just going to have to understand that." He nodded, understandingly.
"Besides," she continued, a little less intensely this time. "I seem to know someone else who isn't really all that different from him." Ross cocked an eyebrow, looking doubtfully at her. He wrapped his arms around her warmly, though. He had been dying to touch her all night, if only to insure himself that she was still his and that she forgave him. He ran his hands up and down her back.
"Oh, come one! I am not difficult!" She let out a short laugh, silently begging to differ, but nevertheless burying her head in his chest. He kissed her forehead and playfully tugged on the sash of her robe.
"Come on," he provoked. "Let's get some sleep."
"Sleep?" she asked, grinning from ear to ear. "Is that REALLY want you want to get some of?" With this, he scooped her up and flung her over his shoulder, carrying her over to the bed and plopping her down. She squealed and giggled the entire way, opening her arms and welcoming him when he scooted up her body and laid down on top of her, resting his head on her chest. She brushed his hair with one hand and rubbed the other up and down his back. It wasn't until that moment that he realized just how tired he actually was.
"You going to change into your pajamas, Ross?" He grunted an almost indecipherable "no", which actually came out more as "neh", before wiggling the sheets up around their bodies. She removed the towel from around her head, triggering an idea within him. He untied the sash on her silken robe, knowing that the energy it would take it remove it completely would be impossible, but settling for merely opening it so that he could lay against her bare skin. It still amazed him at how soft she was. He was half-asleep within seconds, but Rachel still laid awake, pondering something that had occurred to her only moments before, but she couldn't shake the idea.
"Honey?" she asked, squeezing his bicep to get his attention.
"Heh?" he grunted.
"What do you think about eloping?"
End chapter 8. To be continued in Chapter 9...
