Title: mesh
Author: Andrea
Rating: R
Summary: Abby and Carter … planning a future. Together.
Special Author's Note: Before I say anything else, I'd like to mention something very important to me. I AM SPOILER FREE. I know that new spoilers for season 11 are out or will be soon. But PLEASE, I am begging you, PLEASE DO NOT MENTION OR ALLUDE TO SPOILERS OR FUTURE EVENTS ON THE SHOW IN REVIEWS OR E-MAILS. I've taken great pains, and given up a lot of online activities, in order to avoid spoilers and the heartache they bring me. So please keep them to yourself. And please don't even mention how spoilers have made you feel for that is a huge clue to me, of course. If something has depressed you or elated you so much that you can't keep it in check long enough to leave a review … please don't review. I'm serious. I don't want to know. Nothing. I want to be able to hope for the best each and every episode. So please don't point out how something I'm writing doesn't fit with spoilers. Please don't up and mention spoilers for no reason. Please don't tell me how the spoilers are driving you to drink or making you laugh with glee. Spoiler free zone, please. There are 50 million other places to discuss, commiserate, or celebrate what the spoilers seem to claim will happen … please leave them out of reviews. My fics are spoiler free and based only my own imagination … what I'd like to see happen or think might happen or just what I want to speculate about. So let's leave keep the reviews pertaining to the fics, please, without bringing in future spoiled events. Thank you in advance. I just wanted to say something now before it was already too late. And believe me, if people can't honor this request, I'll just stop posting. That's how serious I am about not being spoiler. Thanks for your cooperation.
Usual Author's Note: Thanks to my team of editors. This time props are going out to LISA, COURTNEY, HEATHER, and KELLY. Thanks, dudes! Oh, and a little warning about this chapter: it's long and very wordy (hey, Court). So if you read it, you run the risk of being bored. But then, if you aren't really into these long, detailed, Carby epics, you might not want to bother anyway. I guess you could say this is for the truly devoted. Okay, don't say you weren't warned. Hope you enjoy.
mesh
Chapter 2: Crossing the Rubicon
Did she just say what I think she said? I'll be a father someday if she has anything to say about it? What the hell does that mean? Was that … I mean, is she … is that some sort of offer? I can't believe she just said that. I mean, I was hoping she might give me some idea of where she stands on the issue of children, but I didn't quite expect it to come out like this. Wait a minute, I tell myself … maybe I'm reading too much into this. Maybe she's not really offering to have my baby, maybe she's just speaking in generalities. Maybe she just means she's gonna do her best to see to it that fatherhood is in my future. But in what way does she intend to do that, exactly? Maybe she just wants to set me up with some friend of hers who has a biological clock with alarm bells ringing and that's how she intends to make sure I get another chance at fatherhood. But wait, wouldn't the best way for her to ensure that it happens be for her to have my baby? And weren't we just discussing a reconciliation? Well, I was, but maybe she didn't realize how serious I am about it. So if she's actually making an offer … what does that mean? Is she envisioning us being together as part of a happy little family? Or, as my friend, is she just offering to give me a child, if that's what it takes to make me happy?
I look over at her as she's nervously biting her lip, and see the way she keeps quickly glancing away every time we make eye contact. I decide that whatever it is that she's offering, it must be personal. I don't suppose she has someone else's biological clock in mind. So does that mean … no, I can't imagine she'd just be putting it out there like this. I don't even know for sure that she wants to get back together. And maybe she doesn't. But then again, maybe all these months she's just been waiting for me to make some move, to let her know that I'm ready. My head is spinning. My thoughts are all in a whirl, and I can't even begin to figure out what to say in response. I look down, for a long moment, at our hands still clasped together. When I look back up and meet Abby's gaze, I see that she's screwed up her courage. She's looking right at me. A deep, penetrating look that makes me think she's trying to see inside my very soul.
"Aren't you going to say something?" She asks, giving me a small, apprehensive, but hopeful smile.
"Uh …"
"That's a good start. But I think you can do better."
"I don't know what to say, Abby."
"Oh," she says, her voice oddly flat. Her face becomes expressionless before the tears start to gather in her eyes. I see the look of hurt disappointment flash across her face before she blinks away the tears and pastes a smile back on. She pulls her hand out of mine. "Okay. Never mind I shouldn't have said anything. I don't know why I did. It's too soon. I knew I wasn't ready for this conversation, anyway. I … I'm sorry." She looks away, staring straight ahead as if she's terribly interested in the wall. I hurt her feelings. Again. Somehow I made her think that I wouldn't want … But how could she possibly think that I wouldn't want her as the mother of my children? Well, you dope, what reason have you given her to think that you would?
"Abby," I say gently, reaching out and taking her hand, holding it tight and not letting her pull away. "I don't know what to say only because I'm not quite sure what you meant. I mean, was that an … offer?"
"Not if you don't want it to be." She doesn't look at me, but she's not trying to pull her hand away, either.
"No, I do want it to be. I think. I mean, if you're offering what I think you're offering. What exactly are you offering."
She swivels her head around and looks at me. Dead serious. "You know." Her eyes search my face, presumably looking for some sign from me. I'm not sure she's going to say anything more, but I wait. I want her to say it. I need her to say it. I need to know exactly what we're talking about. And I don't want to take a wild guess. Okay, maybe it would be a not-so-wild guess, but still … I don't want to scare her off, if it turns out we're not on the same page after all.
"Abby?"
Big sigh. The nervous chewing on her lip. When she speaks, her voice is quiet and unsure. "We … could have a baby."
"We could," I say slowly. It's a statement, not a question.
"Of course, we could. I mean, I assume we could. We do have the requisite parts."
"And we know how to use them." She just looks at me. Okay, bad time for a joke.
"I meant, I'd be willing. Not just willing, but …" She trails off and takes a breath. Gives me a small, shaky smile. "If you want to. You know, someday. When you're ready. When we're ready."
"When we're ready. So we'd being doing it … together?" I ask, still trying to figure out exactly what she's thinking.
"Well, we'd have to do it together … that's the only way it works."
"That's not what I meant. I meant, would it be you and I …"
"Well, it won't be me and Frank." The grin on her face is suddenly replaced by a serious, sincere expression. "It's you that I want to see become a father." A little smile plays on her lips as her voice drops down to almost a whisper, "I want to be the one to make you a father." She looks almost embarrassed to have admitted that. There's a certain reluctance behind the smile, like maybe she's wishing we weren't having this conversation. She takes a deep breath and turns her body more toward me apparently deciding to admit something else. "Besides, I'd want the best for my kids. Especially when it comes to their father." The way she's looking deeply into my eyes and resting her free hand on my knee, I'm going to go ahead and assume that she's talking about me.
"So there would be an … us?" I'm still trying to catch up here. I can't quite believe all the sudden revelations. I haven't managed to grasp it all just yet. One minute we're friends. The next minute I'm dropping the let's-get-back-together bomb on her in a vague and unsure way, hoping not to scare her off. And now, instead of running screaming from the room the way I feared she might, here she is telling me that she wants to have my baby. Wow. Major wow. I understand what's being said. I believe that she means it. But it's hard to understand something that seems so unbelievable. Wonderful, but unbelievable.
"Isn't that what you want?" Her voice is soft and apprehensive, worried.
She's been incredibly open and honest with me, I guess I owe her the whole truth. "Of course, it's what I want. More than anything. But I wasn't sure if it was what you wanted."
She laughs. "It better be what I want since I just offered to have your baby."
"Well," I start, feeling a smile turning up the corners of my mouth, "I wasn't sure that meant you wanted us to get back together."
"It'd be pretty hard to get pregnant if we didn't."
"I thought maybe … you know, you were just offering to … have a baby for me."
"What? Like a … 'womb for rent?' " She giggles, apparently finding herself pretty amusing.
"Abby," I groan at her play on words.
"Is that really what you thought?"
"Well, I didn't know. I thought it was possible. Or that maybe … you know, you just wanted to go halvsies on a baby. You know, just as friends."
"Oh." She has a speculative look on her face.
"What? Does that sound like a better deal to you?"
"I was just thinking of how that would work. I don't think it would work very well." Her voice has gotten lower, a little bit husky. And I know that look in her eye. She leans in closer to me. "I mean, if we were just friends, I probably couldn't … do … this."
And then her lips are on mine. I close my eyes and feel how soft and smooth they are against my own lips. I feel the shudder of electricity that runs up my spine. Nothing has changed. It's still there. She's still my Abby, and I'd know the touch of her lips anywhere. This is a soft, gentle kiss, very much like the first one we ever shared. She pulls away all too quickly. She's giving me a smile that shows off just how pleased she is with herself. I can't help but smile back.
"So does this mean we're officially back together?" I ask, slipping my arms around her waist.
She drapes her arms over my shoulders. "Hmm … well," she looks like she's considering the question. "I guess getting back together would be the logical first step."
"Don't let me twist your arm."
"Well, if it's gonna be official … I guess that means we'd have to … seal the deal, right?"
"Like, with a kiss?"
"Oh, I was thinking about something more than just a kiss," she says, her fingers idly running through the hair at the nape of my neck.
"We don't have to rush into anything, Abby. There's no reason we can't take it slow."
She looks a little taken aback at that statement. "I think I'm insulted," she says, but her tone is light and playful. A cute, flirty smile settles on her lips. "I would have thought you would have jumped all over the chance. Besides, I thought you were the one who said you didn't want to waste any more time."
"Well, yeah. But something as serious as a baby --" She's laughing. Why is she laughing? "What?" I demand.
It takes her a minute to stop laughing long enough to answer me. "I wasn't talking about a baby."
"Oh." I stop and think for a minute. "What were you talking about?"
"Sex."
"Oh. Ooh," I repeat, not at all unhappy at the thought.
"I was just thinking that if it's gonna be official, we might need to … consummate things. But probably it would be best to wait …"
"Oh," I say, nodding. I had to go and put ideas into her head about taking things slowly, didn't I?
"Until we're alone," she says, nodding in the direction of Charlie, still sound asleep in the carseat. We both spend a moment watching the baby sleeping so peacefully just a few feet away.
"Speaking of babies … just out of curiosity, what kind of timeline were you thinking about on that one?"
"Well, I hear it takes nine months."
"Abby …"
"I don't know, John. It seems like we should probably take it one step at time. I wanted you to know … I mean, now that I know how much you want children … well, I just wanted to make sure that you knew that it's something that I want, too. But I think we should probably give ourselves some time. I know I'm not getting any younger. I don't want to waste a lot of time, either. But like you said, it's too important to rush right into. I guess we'll just wait until it feels like the right time. I don't know how long that'll be … but when it's right, I think we'll know. Unless… you had something else in mind?"
"No … no that sounds about right. We'll just see how things go. Of course, we've been down this road before so --"
"We have?" She raises her eyebrows at me.
"You know … being together. Being a couple."
"Being an us."
"Yeah. So I think that puts us ahead of the game. I mean, if we pick up where we left off …"
"But with a few notable improvements."
"Yeah."
"So you don't think it's too soon to be contemplating this?"
"This what?" I ask. "Getting back together or having kids?"
"Having kids. I think we're ready … I hope we're ready to get back together. But that's the thing … it seems a little strange to be talking about giving our relationship another shot and then talking having a baby in the same breath. So I thought maybe it seemed too soon to you."
I gently run my hand up and down her back and give her my sincerest smile. "No, I think that was half the problem last time. There were a lot of things that we should have talked about sooner."
"There were a lot of things we should have talked about, period."
"You're right. And we won't make that mistake again. I think it's better to get these things out in the open right away. And besides, it's not like we just met yesterday. We've known each other for … forever. That's how it feels anyway. If it were anyone else but you, maybe I'd think we were getting ahead of ourselves, but Abby, we've already been through so much together. We have this …" I trail off, I can't quite think of how to say what I want to say.
"History," Abby supplies.
"Yeah. We already have the foundation … so no, I don't think it's unreasonable to be talking about having children … someday in the distant …" She cocks her head to the side, giving me an amused, but questioning look so I amend my statement, "Or not-so-distant future. It's all still theoretical right now, right? We're just figuring out where we stand so that we both know that we want the same things. These are the kinds of discussions that we should be having …"
I trail off again, thinking that there's something else that we should probably be discussing. But I'm hesitant to bring up the 'm' word. Oddly enough, considering that we're talking about the child we want to have together someday, I'm still worried that it might scare her. Maybe too much too soon. And maybe she doesn't even want that. Or maybe she thinks it's implied. And it really doesn't matter to me. I'd marry her tomorrow, but if she just wants to 'live in sin' for the rest of our lives, that's okay, too. So I guess it can wait. If she never agrees to marry me, it won't be a deal breaker. At this point, I don't think that anything really would be. Now that I know she wants to have children --with me-- I don't think much could change my mind. And even if she were to change her mind about kids, I could live with it. We'd figure something out together. I just know now that whatever the issue is, we need to work it out together. I realize suddenly that she's staring intently at me, and I'm a million miles away. I smile at her. "And I do love the idea of having some time for just the two of us. You know, get used to being together again, work out the kinks. A little time alone."
"It would be nice to have a little time alone now." There's that naughty little smile of hers again.
I glance at the clock. "Well, it won't be too long until Susan gets here. Just a couple of hours, probably. And what happened to wondering if it was too soon to be thinking about getting back together?"
A worried expression crosses her face. "You don't think it's too soon, do you? I thought that what you said earlier … well, I just assumed that it meant you were ready. But if you're not … not yet … I'll wait."
"You'd wait?"
"Well, I've been waiting all this time, a little longer won't hurt. It might make me crazy, but I could stand it."
"You've been waiting all this time … for me?" I ask, surprised and touched.
"I didn't know until now what I was waiting for. If someone would have asked before tonight … a year ago, I would have known I was waiting to … get over you. And then, I was waiting to finish med school. Or waiting to adjust to being a doctor. I would have just said that I was too busy to be worrying about my social life. I had no idea that you were what I was waiting for. How could I? Certainly, there was a time when I thought that you and I were over for good. You'd moved on … and waiting for you then would have been pointless. But now … I know what it was I was really waiting for … even if it was without realizing that's what I was doing."
"I guess maybe there was a reason that you didn't …" I stop, not wanting to say something that could be misconstrued.
"Move on? Find someone new?"
"Maybe deep down you knew this would happen."
"How could I have known that? You'd made a life with someone else. You seemed perfectly happy."
"But you knew I wasn't."
"I wouldn't say I knew …"
"But you sensed it?"
"Maybe. I don't know. You just … on the surface you seemed happy, but … well, you didn't seem like yourself. And none of it fit with anything I thought I knew about you. But I wasn't about to question it."
"Well, maybe your subconscious knew better than you did."
"So some deep, innermost feeling that I wasn't even aware of kept me in a holding pattern, just waiting for you … even though it seemed like you were permanently off the market?" She sounds understandably skeptical.
"What's so crazy about that?"
"Well … John … you were having a baby with another woman. You were practically married."
"But I wasn't," I remind her, my eyes searching deep within hers. "Didn't you ever wonder about that?" She nods, but doesn't say anything more. Waiting, I guess, to see if I'm going to elaborate. "It was all … a mistake. It was all happening too fast, and I didn't want to compound it. If it had been you, I wouldn't have hesitated … I would have been begging you to marry me." That gets me a small, but pleased smile from Abby. Answer enough that marriage question? Maybe. At least for now. I don't mean to say anything more, but suddenly I found myself plowing ahead, "But with Kem … I couldn't. Something stopped me. I think I knew that it was never gonna work. That it never could work." I pull away from her abruptly, and stand up. I walk across the room and stare out the window to the quiet street in a cold, Chicago evening. I can see in the halo of light created by the street light that there's a breeze blowing a few brown, fallen leaves through the gutter. I try very hard to concentrate on what I'm seeing in front of me trying not to think. I should be happy. I've just found out that the thing I've wanted more than anything is within my grasp. I've got Abby back. We've got a future. One that includes children, something I never thought would be possible with Abby. It's like a dream come true, and I'm so happy. So then why do I feel so sad?
I watch him pull away from my embrace and walk across the room to stare out the windows. This isn't the first time since the baby's death and Kem's departure that I've seen him do this. As much as I've tried to be a shoulder for him to cry on, or at least lean on, there have been moments when he's closed up and turned inward. I know how solitary a thing grief can be. Sometimes no one else can begin to understand what you're feeling, and all you can do is look inside yourself for comfort. Still, I want to do what I can to help him. I watch him as he stands at the windows looking suddenly so sad. I'm not sure why. He was talking about how things wouldn't have worked with Kem. I don't know whether or not that's true, but he seems to believe it. I just don't know why that would make him so sad. Unless he misses her that much … but then why … A sudden thought pops into my head and makes my heart skip a beat: what if he's just settling for me? After all, I'm here. I'm convenient. I can give him a baby. Is that what made him decide that we should get back together? Am I just a means to an end? But no. No, he brought up a reconciliation before he even knew what my feelings were on the subject of having kids. And then there was that look in his eyes.
Okay, I figure I have two choices. I can fall back on my old ways and let my insecurities get the best of me. I can get pissed off and accuse him of thinking things that may not have ever occurred to him, but may only be bouncing around in my mind. Or I can try to act like a grown up, give him the benefit of the doubt, listen to what my instincts are telling me and go over there and try to comfort him in some way. The first way hasn't worked particularly well, so I guess I'd be wise to try something different.
I get up from the couch and move across the room to stand behind him. I wrap my arms around his chest, clasping my hands together, and turning my head to rest my cheek against his back.
"What's wrong?" I ask, trying for a sympathetic and understanding tone. His hands cover mine, and I feel him sigh. "Second thoughts?"
He immediately looks over his shoulder at me, his brow knit together in concern. "About you?" I shrug, and he turns around in my embrace so that he can wrap his arms around me and pull me close. "No, no of course not. It's not second thoughts. Certainly not about us. It's just …"
"Regrets?" I guess, knowing what that feels like.
"No, more like guilt."
"Guilt?" I ask, pulling back a bit so that I can look up at him.
He pulls out of our hug, but takes my hand. Wanting some space, but not wanting to severe the connection, completely, I guess.
"I feel guilty about the regrets that I don't have. Sometimes … sometimes I feel like I didn't do right by Kem. I made her a promise, you know. And I'm not sure how well I did at fulfilling that promise." I nod. Not so much because I follow what he's saying, but more because I know what it feels like to think you've let someone down. "But the thing is … with the way things have turned out … I can't say that I regret it. I can't say that I wish I could go back and do things differently. I can't even say that I wish things had turned out differently. But to be happy with the way things are now means …" He trails his off as his voice begins to break.
"It makes you feel … disloyal."
He quickly looks my way, the surprise showing in his eyes. "Yeah. When I'm happy, and I think to myself that I'm glad that things are the way they are … that I've got you back in my life … it makes me realize that it's only possible because he's not here. And it's almost like I'm glad he's not. He was just a baby. An innocent baby … and I … feel like it's all my fault."
"It's not your fault, John. How could it be your fault?"
He shrugs and swipes at the tear in the corner of his eye. "Maybe I didn't want him enough. Maybe there was something I wanted more. I didn't think so then, but now …"
"You didn't do anything to cause his death. Nothing you did or said or thought … look, most first time parents are apprehensive and probably a little ambivalent. But any ambivalence on your part couldn't have caused it to happen. It was just a random accident. I know you know that. And there's nothing wrong with moving on. You have to. And it's okay to be happy. Even if your happiness comes from some possibility that may not have existed if he was here. Because you can't ever really know what would have happened if he'd lived. Maybe it would help if you thought about it like … I don't know … when one door closes, another one opens. Like some good will come from … not his death, but his existence. That he came into your life for a reason. And even though his death was a terrible tragedy, the mere fact of his existence will make your life better."
"Yeah. It just feels so … opportunistic. Or maybe just … wrong, somehow. There shouldn't be a silver lining to a baby's death."
"But there's a silver lining to everything, if you look for it. Even the biggest tragedy has something to teach us, something good to come from it. And we have to find the good; that's how we get by. And the truth is, you really can't feel guilty for your happiness, because it's not like it's a direct result of his death."
"It just feels that way. I mean, you have no idea how happy I am to have you back in my life. But then when I think that it's only possible because he's not here …"
"But that's not true. Okay, yeah, probably we wouldn't be here together now … but you don't know that for sure. If we were meant to find our way back together … it would have happened no matter what. Maybe it wouldn't have happened this soon, but … if you really believe that things wouldn't have worked for you and Kem … I don't know, maybe I would have still been hanging around, married to my career. Maybe we would have gotten our second chance later. I don't know … but if it's meant to be …"
"Why Abby Lockhart, are you suggesting that fate may want us together?" He gives me a playful smile. He's teasing me, but that's okay. Whatever it takes to put a smile on his face.
"Well, I don't know. I guess. Maybe. If it makes you feel better …" I say that sincerely. Really, whatever he needs to believe, I'm willing to support.
"So maybe everything that happened … was supposed to happen?"
I'm not quite sure which answer he's looking for here. Would it be more comforting to think that a baby's a death was a random accident or the unkind hand of fate? "I don't know. Sometimes I think that fate and chance are battling it out … and we all just get stuck in the middle. If you're lucky, you find a time when they meet up together."
"I don't know if the idea that it was just a random chance makes me feel any better. But I hate to think that it was fate teaching me a lesson."
So that's why he's feeling responsible. "That's not what I meant. And I don't think that's how it works. But if you've learned something … well, at least maybe there's some meaning …" I stop talking because suddenly words seem so inadequate. I reach up brush the hair back from his forehead. I wish I knew a way to help him get through this. But I've learned the hard way that it just takes time. And even then … it's always with you in some small way. "The good news is … eventually? Eventually all this … grief makes the good stuff that much better. I know that's not much consolation …"
"Actually, it is." He catches the hand that's still brushing through his hair so that he can hold both my hands in his.
"I know it's not easy, but … sometimes it gets easier if you stop trying to figure out why and accept that it happened. In the end, the why doesn't always matter that much. It happened. Nothing you do will change that. Nothing will bring him back. But you owe it to yourself to be happy. And to him. Because if you put what he taught you to good use … then there is that meaning. It's not all for nothing. Even if it seems like an awfully steep price to pay. But you don't ever have to worry that you caused it to happen. You didn't. Believe me. It was an accident, and there was nothing you could do to prevent it. At least that's something to hold on to. It's worse when you know that you're responsible. And that's something you can't get away from."
He's looking at me with curiosity now. I wanted to reassure him, but now I'm wondering if I've said too much. After all, this is about his struggles, not mine. "Abby? What … are you talking about?"
"Nothing." Best to leave it for another day. I'll tell him. I will. I want to. Well, maybe I don't exactly want to, but I know I need to. But not now.
"Are you talking about patients? Or a specific patient? Because you know we do our best … but sometimes there's nothing to be done."
"I know. We do what we can. It's not our fault if we lose them."
"No, it's not." I can hear the unasked question in his voice. I should have just let him think I was ruminating about a patient. I really don't want to get into this at the moment.
"Look, John, I …" Suddenly I'm interrupted by a cry from across the room. Saved by the baby. I give Carter an apologetic smile and untangle my hands from his so I can go tend to Charlie.
I look down at a wide-awake, squirming, squealing baby. Catching sight of me, Charlie just cries harder, little arms waving. I reach into the carseat and scoop the baby out, cradling Charlie in my arms. I find the pacifier and stick it in place, holding the baby tight against my chest while I walk in a bouncing step, patting the diapered bottom as I go. I hum a tuneless little song and soon Charlie quiets down. I watch as the tiny eyelids droop and Charlie drifts back off to sleep. Instead of putting the baby back in the carseat, I sit down on the couch with Charlie still in my arms.
"You're staring again," I say to Carter who is leaning against the wall, watching me and the baby. He gives me a smile and a shrug and crosses the room to sit down next to us. He idly brushes his fingers through Charlie's downy blond hair. "It kinda makes me nervous when you stare at us like that."
"Sorry. I can't help it. It's my natural inclination to stare at you. And then when you have a baby in your arms … And I must say, that was a pretty impressive display … the way you got Charlie back to sleep. It took less than ten minutes and you didn't even break out a bottle."
"Well, I'm good."
"My point at exactly. You've already got this whole baby thing down. You'll make a great mom."
"I'm glad you think so," I say, smiling down at Charlie, thinking that I certainly hope he's right.
"I do. Of course I do. Why do you think I want you as the mother of my children?" Good thing it's too dark in here for him to see the color that comes up in cheeks. "After all, I want someone who's good at it, so that the whole thing will be a snap." He gives me a playful grin.
"Shut up. You're not nice. And you're not funny."
"But you love me anyway."
I give him a long look, trying to decide how to play it. "Love you?" I ask with a snort, "I'm not even sure I like you."
"Hmm, well, that could be a problem since you're stuck with me now. Good thing I don't have any doubts about you."
"You don't?" Back to serious now.
"No, not a one. After everything you've done for me? And after the way I treated you … well, most people would have left me to sink or swim, but you've been keeping my head above water all this time. It's made me realize how truly incredible you are … not to mention how stupid I can be. So I have no doubts. And watching you tonight with Charlie has just made me that much more certain."
"So you just want me for my mommy skills? Take care of you, take care of the kids …" I say it in light tone because it's a joke. But, of course, there's more than a little seriousness behind it.
He seems to sense that there's more to it than just the joke. "Abby … of course not. If you want to know why I want you back … well, I could probably spend days listing the reasons, big and small. But it's not because I'm just looking at you as potential mommy material. It's because … you make me happy. You made me smile when I didn't think anything could. You make me laugh all the time. I feel like I can tell you anything. And we have fun. And we can sit on this couch for hours and not say a word and be perfectly comfortable. And we can look at each other and not say a word and know exactly what the other is thinking. And your personal attributes -- smart, funny, beautiful … sarcastic, cynical … but strong and resilient -- those don't hurt either. And yeah, the fact that you do have 'mommy skills,' as you called them, is part of it.
"Look, the way you've … taken care of me these past few months has reminded me of something that I knew about you, but forgot. You're a nurturer, Abby. I've known that since back when you were a brand new med student in the ER. It was one of the reasons that I was drawn to you to begin with. And later, ironically, it was one of the things that I held against you. But that was my insecurity shining through. I should have looked at the big picture. You have this need to take care of the people you love that are, themselves, in need. It's in your nature. It's who you are. And now I can't believe that I ever resented it. You took care of your brother, and I got mad at you … because I didn't understand. No, that's not true. I understood. I just didn't like it. I didn't realize that it wasn't a reflection on your feelings for me. He just needed you more than I did at that particular moment. And I'm sure that it'll happen again. Maybe with Maggie or Eric or maybe with work … or maybe with babies. But I know now that I don't have to feel … slighted. Because I know you'll be there when I really need you. The way you have that need to take care of … everyone might, occasionally, be a little hard for me to handle, but I know in the long run, that I'm going to reap the most reward. First for myself, and then someday … for my children. And I was a fool to ever wish that you'd be different. How could I have ever wished that you wouldn't care so much? After all, your nurturing side should be, and now is, one of the very things that makes me love you."
"You love me?" The words pop out of my mouth before I realize what I'm saying. I feel my cheeks heating up, and I'm sure there's an expression of pure horror on my face. I mean, what if he didn't mean it like that?
"Yeah," he says, softly, nodding his head, the back of his hand lightly brushing along my cheek. "One of the things I've learned these past few months is … what love really is. And who it is that I really love. That I've loved all along. And that's you. I love you, Abby."
I stare into his eyes -- soft and serious, full of … love? We're locked in gaze for a long moment, and then we slowly begin gravitating towards each other, and I close my eyes in anticipation. His lips brush softly against mine in a slow kiss that becomes a serious of small kisses, our lips meeting and parting just to be pulled back together as if magnetized.
"John," I say quietly, in between kisses.
"Hmm…"
"Baby."
"What?"
"The baby." I stress, giggling a little, as I pull away and nod down at Charlie who is still asleep in my arms. It's a little awkward, trying to make out with a baby in between us. Not to mention, perhaps, slightly inappropriate.
"Oh. Here, let me," he says, gently lifting Charlie out of my arms. With just a minimum of complaint from the baby, John gets Charlie settled back in the carseat and then returns to sit on the couch with me. Immediately he slips his arms around me and pulls me close to him. He wastes no time covering my mouth with his own, and then quickly deepening the kiss. His tongue invades my mouth at about the same time his hand invades my shirt. I pull away from him abruptly.
"What?" He asks. I give him a 'what do you mean what?' look and then glance pointedly at Charlie, sleeping just a few feet away.
"We don't want to get to carried away with the baby here," I remind him.
"The baby's asleep."
"Still."
"We were just kissing, Abby."
"Sure. But one minute it's a little making out … then it's a little fooling around … and then … well, it's just better if we don't start. Not with the baby here."
"We could put the baby in the other room."
"Oh, sure. We'll just put Charlie, in the carseat, in the kitchen and leave the baby there all alone so that we can make out. That's great."
"So what are you suggesting?"
"I don't know? How about just keeping our hands to ourselves for a little while?"
"Until Charlie goes home?"
"Yeah."
"You do know that Charlie's asleep, right?"
"Yeah … but I still feel like the baby is watching us. And that's a little creepy."
"Wait. I know." He gets up and rearranges Charlie so that the carseat and baby are facing away from us. Then he pulls up the attached hood, really enclosing Charlie within the seat. "Better?" He asks, attempting to resume his former position.
"I guess," I say. But then I place a warning hand on his chest. "Just so long as things don't get out of hand."
"They won't."
Of course, I have my doubts about that as he's already laying me back on the couch and covering my body with his. His lips find mine, and we fall into a deep kiss. The kissing is nice. Okay, the kissing is more than nice. The kissing is making my toes curl. Still, I'm mindful of the baby sleeping just a few feet away. That's why, when his hand slips back under my shirt, I push him away again.
"John." My no-nonsense voice.
"What?" He asks, the picture of innocence, moving in close again. His hand slides back under my shirt, tickling me as his fingertips brush lightly over my ribs.
"You know," I say, giggling even as I try to push his hand away.
"You want me to stop?" His lips land on my neck and then work their way up until he's nibbling on my earlobe.
"Umm…"
"Didn't think so," he says, slipping an arm around my back and pulling me closer to him. "You smell like peaches."
"That's what happens when a baby helpfully tries to condition your hair … with strained peaches."
"I like it. It's actually quite a turn-on."
"I think there may be something wrong with you."
"Uh-huh," he says, sounding as if he's in agreement, but really I think he's just not paying any attention to what I say. His hand is roaming around on my back, and then suddenly, fumbling with the clasp of my bra.
"What are you doing?"
"Can we take this off?
"No!"
"No?"
"There's a baby in the room. I am not taking off my shirt."
"Who said anything about your shirt? C'mon … the baby will never know."
"I don't think it's a good idea." So then why am I squirming around, shrugging out of the bra and then slipping it down my arm and out of one of the rolled-up sleeves of my blouse? Because I've clearly lost my mind, that's why. I don't know how he manages to do this to me. Although I don't know why it surprises me. After all, we started things out with him talking me out of my pants in the midst of a quarantine. Being willing to do it on a gurney in a trauma room is probably a good indication of his ability to drive me wild. Or maybe it's the fact that he always manages to get me into these compromising positions when it's been a really long time since I've been in any sort of compromising position. Whatever the reason, it's pretty much a guarantee that one look into those warm brown puppy-dog eyes or a few strategically placed kisses, and I'm putty in his hands. He knows exactly how to get to me, and he's not afraid to use that knowledge to it's fullest potential.
His hand is moving around under my shirt, finally finding a now-bare breast. My back arches up toward his hand, and I can feel him grinning against my neck. The hand that isn't busy under my shirt is slowly undoing the top buttons on my blouse while his lips move softly over the newly bare flesh. I can feel something hard pushed against my leg. Now it could be the tv remote. Or it could be a root beer bottle or one of Charlie's toys. But since I doubt that Carter would have stuck any of those things down his pants, I'm guessing it's something else. 'Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea' my mind is chanting loudly, if only inside my head. Too bad other parts of my body don't agree.
"Abby, you need to relax," he says, one finger tracing along the inside edge of my open collar. Need to relax? I thought I was relaxed. But now that he mentions it, maybe I am a little tense. I make a conscious effort to try and loosen up, but it's not easy when I feel like a teenager in the backseat of a car on lovers' lane, just waiting to be discovered. I can't quite seem to forget the baby parked on the coffee table across the room. I know Charlie's asleep, but still … of course when John pops open another button on my shirt and replaces his hand with his mouth, I kinda forget where I am for a minute. Until I hear the sound of a car door slamming outside. I push Carter off of me and struggle to sit up.
"Did you hear that?"
"What? I didn't hear anything," he says, trying to lay me back down on the couch.
"Stop." I sit up and look around. "I think I heard a car door. It's probably Susan."
He glances at the clock and then back at me. "It's too early. C'mon. Just relax." He's rubbing my shoulder with one hand, the other arm around my waist. He's clearly interested in encouraging me to return to our former position.
"Let me just check," I say, pulling away and crossing to the windows. "Oh, shit …"
"What?"
"What? What do you think? It's her." Already climbing the front steps. Great. "Pull yourself together."
He chuckles. "I think you need that advice more than I do."
"What?" I ask as the doorbell rings. He gives me a raised eyebrows look, and I glance down at myself. So my shirt's unbuttoned to the waist, my bra's missing, and I can only imagine the state of my hair. "Maybe you should get the door," I suggest, as the bell rings again.
"I'm not sure that would be a good idea."
"It's your house."
"Yeah, but … I wouldn't want to scare Susan." He glances down pointedly, shifting somewhat uncomfortably on the couch. "I think you better get the door."
"Ahh!" This is all his fault: it was all his idea. And now he's making me take the fall. How do I get myself into these things? I quickly do up a couple of buttons and run my fingers through my hair. By the time I get to the door, Susan is knocking rather insistently.
I take a deep breath and yank open the door. "Hi," I say, casual as can be.
"Oh, shit," Susan says, giving me a quick once over.
"What?"
"Gee, Abby, I don't know." I shrug my shoulders and give her a look like I have no idea what she's talking about.
"What are you doing here?"
"I'm here to pick up my baby, remember?"
"You're early."
"You said I could come pick up Charlie any time. I got Luka to stick around and cover for me so I thought I'd come by and pick up the baby in case you two had something you'd rather do besides baby-sit. I just didn't think you would have gotten started on the 'something you'd rather do' already. I had no idea I'd be interrupting anything. Especially considering that my baby is here." She gives me a 'tsk, tsk, tsk' finger shake. When I keep giving her my innocent look, she doesn't say a word, she just turns her finger toward me, turning it into a pointing gesture. Back and forth right in front of my chest. Back and forth in front of my breasts. I look down. Even in the half light from the porch lamp, I can clearly see an outline of my hardened nipples through the thin material of my half-unbuttoned, rumpled shirt.
I cross my arms over my chest. "It's cold in here."
"Uh-huh. More like it's getting hot in here." She pushes past me into the house.
"What are you talking about?" When in doubt, play dumb. "We weren't doing anything." And then lie.
"Mm-hmm. So what's with the 'romantic lighting' in here then?"
"Charlie's sleeping."
"It doesn't have to be dark for Charlie to sleep," she points out, walking into the living room. "Hey, Carter."
"Hey." Fabulous. I get the third degree and he gets 'hey.' And then he doesn't even bother to help me out, just gives her 'hey' right back.
Susan glances over at the couch where Carter sits and then does a double take. "Christ, Abby! I thought you would have waited at least a few years to corrupt my kid." Now I see what she's looking at. A bra. My bra. Draped over the back of the couch. I give a Carter an 'I'm going to kill you' look. He looks befuddled. Susan slips a finger under one the straps and lifts the bra into the air, swinging it back and forth. "Care to explain this?"
"It fell off," I say, snatching it from her hands and wading it up in mine.
"You're pathetic. Not to mention some sort of … sex offenders."
"There was no sex. Just a little …" I trail off, idly running my fingers through my hair, scratching at my head, wondering if Carter is going to help me out at all here.
"It was just a little making out," he says, reading my mind, I guess. "And it was all my fault. I take full responsibility." He looks over at me, giving me a grin. "And just so you know … Charlie was asleep. And turned in the other direction."
"Gee, that makes it so much better." She leans over the carseat and peers at the sleeping baby. "What are they doing to you, huh baby? Poor little thing. I had no idea what you were going to be exposed to when I sent you over here. Aww … Mommy's sorry you had to be traumatized like this. Poor baby. See if we let them baby-sit again, right?"
"Traumatized?" I ask.
"Yes!"
"Are you really upset about this? Because I'm … we're really sorry about it. Normally we wouldn't … I mean, I know it's not appropriate, it's just …" She's grinning at me as I bumble my way through the apology. "You're not upset about this at all, are you?"
"Nah, not really. To be honest, you could have had sex right there on the couch, and it wouldn't have even woken up the baby … no matter how loud Carter got."
"Hey! Abby …" Carter gives me a look.
"What?" A palms up gesture from me to denote my cluelessness.
"Anyway, I was saying … Charlie's just like Chuck. The kid sleeps through anything. And just between us … it wouldn't have been the first time Charlie was in the room while someone was having sex."
"That's disgusting," I tell her.
"Look who's talking," she shoots back.
"We didn't have sex."
"Yeah, but Charlie's my kid. Besides, you don't know what it's like, trying to find two minutes to go to the bathroom, much less any kind of quality time alone when there's a baby in the house. If you had kids, you'd know what I'm talking about." Carter and I exchange a look. "Oh. God, I'm sorry. Stupid, stupid, stupid. John …"
"It's okay," he assures her. And I know he means that because the look we exchanged wasn't one of sadness or concern, but rather one of speculation and possibility. With a touch of 'I've got a secret' in sly smiles. "It's not what you think." I suppose he's referring to the look that we just shared.
Susan gives us a speculative look for a moment before turning to Carter. "So Abby was giving me some crap this afternoon about you two being 'just friends.' If that's true --"
"If?" I ask. What kind of friend thinks I would lie to her. Oh, wait … maybe I would lie to her. But just a little bit.
She glances at me, but otherwise ignores my outburst. "Am I to assume that the whole 'just friends' things is no longer the case?"
"Uh … well …" I stutter, knowing the answer, but not sure if I'm ready to say it out loud yet.
John doesn't seem to have any of those reservations. He reaches out and takes my hand. "Yeah, I think we kinda blew that out of the water tonight. Or we will, anyway."
"I can take a hint," Susan says. "Besides, we need to get you home, huh Charlie? Yeah, it's getting cold out there, we need to get you home and tucked into your nice warm bed." She adjusts the blanket around Charlie, making it a little more snug. And then takes a heavier blanket that she's carrying over her arm, and drapes it over the whole carseat. To keep the cold air off the baby, I guess. "Thanks a lot for baby-sitting, guys. You really saved me. I owe you."
"No, you don't," John tells her. "It was our pleasure. And …"
"You did us a favor," I finish for him.
"We should be thanking you."
I nod in agreement. "Turns out having a baby around was just what we needed." I'm talking to Susan, but looking at John, giving him a warm smile as I lace my fingers through his.
Susan's brow furrows as she looks back and forth between us. "There's something going on here. Something's up with you two."
This would be a perfect opportunity for a dirty joke, but I decide to behave myself. "Yeah, I think we already established that."
"There's more to it than that, isn't there?"
"Gee, Susan … you look tired." I say in a pointed tone of voice.
"Okay. I'm going." She picks up the baby's carseat and starts toward the door. I drop Carter's hand and follow her. As soon as she thinks we are out of range, she turns to me with conspiratorial whisper, "But I want details tomorrow. ASAP." I roll my eyes as I open the door for her.
"Here, don't forget this," John says, suddenly standing behind me. He reaches around me to hand Susan the diaper bag.
"Thanks, I'd be lost without it. So I guess I'll see you guys tomorrow. If you can make it to work."
John drops his hands lightly on my shoulders. I'm not sure if it's a suggestive gesture or if he thinks he needs to restrain me.
"Good-night, Susan." I say, giving her a big fake smile.
"'Night."
"'Night," John calls over my head, raising one hand in a wave. And then he reaches past me and pushes the door closed. Before I know what's happening, he's spun me around and backed me up against the closed door. I don't even have time to murmur a protest before his lips descend upon mine. His hands move to my waist, and I drape my arms around his neck, falling into the kiss. But after a moment, I get the distinct feeling that we're being watched.
"What's wrong?" Carter asks, pulling back a bit.
I turn around in his embrace and peer out the window next to the door. "Go home," I enunciate carefully for Susan. She just looks at me, pretending she doesn't know what I said. So I reach out and open the door. "Wanna buy a ticket?" John drapes his arm over my shoulder and across my chest, resting his hand on my other shoulder and pinning my back to his chest. Definitely a possessive gesture. But comfortable. And oddly enough, I discover that I like it. I lay my cheek on his hand.
"Oh, I thought it was a free show."
"No, sorry." Carter pulls me a little closer, and I'm reminded, quite clearly, of what we started earlier. A very real reminder just happens to be poking me in the back. Guess he doesn't want me getting any ideas about having a long, drawn out conversation with Susan. "And … uh … sorry. But the show's sold out. Freak," I mumble just loud enough for her to hear.
"Hey, I'm just trying to be aware of what it is that my kid's watching. Since apparently Charlie got to see an episode of this show earlier."
"Well, we didn't let Charlie watch. And we're not gonna let you watch, either." I not-so-subtly start to push the door closed.
"Fine. I'm going. Good-night."
"Hey, Susan?" I call when she's halfway down the front walk.
"Yeah?"
"Don't tell anybody, okay?" She gives me a wave, and I shut the door, still peering out the window to watch her progress.
"Good job, Ab. Now she's gonna tell everybody."
"That's okay. I don't really care."
"Well, then …"
"Gave her something to think about. I didn't want her running back up here to peep in the windows again."
"Distraction. That's good. I think she's gone."
"Yep, I see taillights in the distance." He reaches out and turns the lock on the door, then flips out the light on the front porch, leaving us in the darkened front hall lit only by the faint glow of the lamp in the living room and sparse moonlight filtering in through the window.
"Something tells me you're not gonna be distracted so easily." I turn around and look up at him. Our eyes lock. I don't know what he's seeing in mine, but I'm seeing a lot of tenderness, a lot of desire, and a lot lust in his. He backs me up against the door again, and somehow I think that I'm in trouble.
"Don't be scared," he whispers. I guess maybe that's what he saw in my eyes. "I'm not gonna hurt you." I let my head fall forward, my forehead landing on his chest. "I'm not the same fool who walked away from you. It's not gonna happen again."
"I know."
"Yeah?" He bends his head down toward mine.
"Yeah." I look up at him, our faces mere inches apart. He closes the gap, and I give in to the kiss without a moment's resistance. I slip my hands up his back and hold his head close to me, not wanting to let him get away. Our kisses grow more passionate and desperate, leaving us gasping for breath every time we pull away from each other. When he finally moves his lips from mine and begins kissing his way down my jaw line and neck, my chest is heaving, and I think I might be panting.
He's working on the buttons of my shirt, his head following his hands and attacking every inch of skin as it is exposed. His hands move to my waist while his head nudges the material to the side so that his mouth can nuzzle at my bare breast. When he finds the hard nipple and sucks it into his mouth, I gasp. And then there's suddenly a lot of moaning and writhing going on, mostly from me. So much for playing hard to get. Oh wait, I never planned on playing hard to get. I've waited damn long enough for this moment. On that note, I let my hands slip off his head where they've been holding him in place, tight up against my body. I reach for the waistband of his pants, but find it a little hard to reach in this position, with him all hunched up in front of me. Luckily, he figures out my intentions and straightens up, returning to his assault against my neck. I quickly grab at his pants, popping open the top button and then yanking the zipper down. Our mouths find each other once again as I push the khakis down over his hips. They fall to the floor and he struggles out of them, pulling his socks off with his feet and then kicking the whole works aside, never once breaking contact with me. In fact, his hands are fumbling at my waistband, undoing my jeans and tugging at them. As he starts to slip them down, he pulls his mouth from mine, and let his lips blaze a trail down the bare flesh between my breasts and then down my stomach until he's resting on his knees in front of me. The t-shirt that I've pulled off him as he was sliding to the floor gets tossed across the front hall, landing somewhere near the stairs. He yanks my jeans off and then quickly returns to lift one of my feet and pull off the sock.
Something tells me that with the way we are yanking and tearing at each other's clothes and desperately trying to touch every inch of the other's body, that there's no stopping this speeding train. And I don't think it's gonna be one of those long and sweet kind of things. It's a little too primal for that. But I don't care how it happens, just so long as it happens. Feeling a little desperate? Absolutely. I knew I wanted him. I knew I probably wanted him bad. But I had no idea how much until this moment. I'm wrenched out of my musings when, with the second foot, he pulls the sock off slowly, a finger tracing lightly along the bottom of my foot. He lifts it up, one hand holding my foot while the other caresses my leg, moving up the knee and back down again. And then he sucks my big toe into his mouth. My hands fall flat against the door behind me, and I find myself moaning. Get a grip, Abby, it's just a toe. Of course, I'm reminded, by what he's doing to that toe, of how good it would feel if he did those same things to certain other parts of my body.
"I love this about you Abby." His voice is low and breathy.
"Shut up," I tell him.
"What? I mean it. I like it. A lot."
"My wanton hussy tendencies?"
He looks up at me with an amused look on his face. "I was going to call it your responsiveness. Just about anyway I touch you, I get a big reaction."
"It's because you're the one who's touching me. You could be giving me stitches right now and you'd be getting this same response."
"God, how did we ever make it through all these months of just cuddling on the couch?"
"I have absolutely no idea. Because I need a lot more than that from you now." My chest is still heaving, and my breath is still coming in short bursts. I'm overwhelmed with the heat and desire that I feel. I reach out and run my hands through his hair wildly, needing to touch him in some way. When I speak again, my voice is soft and raspy. "I need you to make love to me. I need to feel you inside of me."
Our eyes lock again, and I see him swallow hastily. He drops my foot and runs his hands along the outside of legs, stopping at my hips. "Come here," he says.
I sink down to my knees on the clothes piled on the floor. His hands slip up my body, coming to rest on either side of my face. He holds me there in front of him, staring at me for a moment. And then his hands wrap around to the back of my head and he pulls me to him for another deep kiss. Immediately our mouths are open and our tongues are mingling and battling each other. My tongue slips into his mouth and he sucks on it as he lowers my body to the floor. When he moves away from the kiss and starts back down my body once again, I ask, "Here? Don't you wanna go upstairs? Or to the couch."
He looks up at me with a grin, "We could." And then he slips his hand in my panties and does some tricky things with his fingers, causing my hips to buck up against him while my head and shoulders writhe against the floor.
"Here's good," I gasp out.
"Thought so," he says, pulling the panties off and then replacing his fingers with his mouth. I feel his tongue against my sensitive flesh, his breath moaning inside of me and think I'm gonna lose it right there. My hands fall back to his head, my fingers running through his hair, twisting it and holding on desperately while he works his magic.
Suddenly, just when I think I can't take it anymore, he pulls away. He sits up on his knees between my legs and gives me a look fully of longing and hunger. He runs his hands up my belly and then catches the sides of my open shirt. He slips the material slowly down one arm, then the other, and then pulls the shirt out from under me, throwing it over his shoulder. I'm lying here staring at him, still panting and heaving, unable to catch my breath, feeling like I'm in a state of suspended animation. His ministrations have stopped, but the sensations haven't. And I need him to touch me again. I need him. Now. I reach for his wrist, pull his arm over to my mouth and suck in a finger. Then I slowly let the finger roll out of my mouth and run my tongue along the inside of his palm to his wrist. I kiss the inside flesh of his arm, and then suck the skin into my mouth. I've got my eyes pinned to his face, and I can see his eyelids fluttering as he struggles to keep the rest of his body still. I drop his arm and lie looking up at him.
"You gonna take those things off?" I ask, gesturing to the boxer shorts he's still wearing, the only article of clothing that either of us has on. He just nods, moving his hands in that direction. "Wait. Let me."
I slip both of my index fingers into the waistband of his boxers and slowly, teasingly run those fingers around the edge. I pull at the material, lowing it just a fraction of an inch. "Abby, c'mon."
"Okay," I say, moving my hands away. "You do it." I lean back on my elbows, propping myself up so I can watch. He grabs at the underwear and yanks it down so that it pools around his knees. But my eyes are glued to the specimen of manhood that, once released from the constraints of the boxers, has just sprung to life in front of me. I gulp, both from anticipation and a little bit of nervousness. I haven't done this for a while and I find myself worrying about whether or not everything's going to fit. Not to mention there's the question if I'll even remember what I should be doing. On the other hand, my body is still aching, longing to be filled. Longing to become one with him. And it hasn't been that long. And the last time was with him, so that should make it easier, right? Except, of course, for the added pressure that comes with the fact that I should know what he likes. And what if I don't live up to his memories? Shit, what if he doesn't live up to mine?
"Something wrong?" He asks, noticing me biting my lip. Now he looks a little nervous, too.
"Performance anxiety."
"Hmm, me too. But if it's not perfect …"
"We've got plenty of time to practice."
"Yeah," he agrees. And then we stop talking.
His hands slide up my stomach, over my ribs, and find their way to my bare breasts just longing to be caressed. He's kneading and rubbing and pinching, and I'm thinking that at least he hasn't forgotten what to do to me. I run my hands up his arms and over his shoulders, down to his own sensitive nipples. And after a few moments, I continue on my downward path. He gasps loudly when my hand gently wraps around his shaft as the other hand goes on a bit of an exploration. Everything's just as I remember … all equipment still present and accounted for. I'm stroking him lightly and he's moaning my name in my ear, turning me on even more. My hips seem to raise up on their own pushing against his pelvis, trapping my hand in between us. He lifts his head from where he was nuzzling my hair and looks at me, a question in his eyes. I nod slowly, and let go of him, slipping my hands around to rest low on his back.
His mouth descends upon again, and when we've just barely settled into the kiss, I feel him suddenly shove into me with a long, low moan.
"Oh," I gasp, mostly in pleasure but also in surprise and just a little bit of pain. I freeze up and pull back slightly.
"What's wrong?" His worried eyes search my face.
"Nothing."
"You're eyes look like they are about to bug out of your head. Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just … been awhile. I need a minute to … adjust."
"Oh, God, Abby. Did I hurt you? I'm sorry." He starts to pull back.
"No, no! Don't … don't." I keep my hands on his backside, firmly holding him where he is. "Just give me a second." I hold still for moment, letting my body grow used to the feeling of being completely filled. And then once that little bit of discomfort is gone, a wriggle around a bit beneath him, adjusting our position slightly, opening my hips a bit more, wrapping my legs loosely around his. "Okay," I tell him, with a little nod.
"You're sure?"
"Yeah."
"Tell me if you want to stop."
"I don't want to stop," I tell him. For emphasis, I thrust my hips up toward him, driving him back inside of me. Deep inside of me. This time the gasp is nothing but pleasure.
"Oh, Abby," he moans, burying his head against my shoulder. I wrap my arms around his neck and turn my head, kissing his cheek, encouraging him to turn toward me so that my lips can capture his. As the kiss deepens, he thrusts his tongue into my mouth, the rest of his body mimicking that action. It's my turn to moan and whisper his name desperately as he moves inside of me. I can tell that he's trying his best to make this slow and gentle, but I also can tell that he's struggling to stay in control.
"Faster, baby," I moan. He looks at me, and I nod and smile, eyes half-closed and not really seeing. But feeling. And it feels just like I remember. Suddenly, I remember every little detail about him, about how good we always were at this part. And how good it feels. Passionate, but comfortable. Everything I've tried to block out comes rushing back to me. "I've missed you," I mumble. He grunts something affirmative and immediately thrusts into me with more vigor. I pull his head down close to mine, and run my tongue along the edge of his ear. And then, in response to his declaration earlier, I whisper in his ear, "I love you, too."
That's all it takes to really set him in motion. Suddenly that primal desperation we were feeling earlier returns full force. We seem to be in a manic frenzy, pushing against each other over and over. He's thrusting into me faster and faster and my hips are moving in perfect unison with him. Our bodies are covered in sweat and our breathing is labored. The whole world has disappeared, and all that's left is just the two of us and the sensations running through our bodies. A sudden jolt runs up my spine, causing my whole body to quake. He notices and must know I'm getting close because he pushes himself up on his arms, moving his chest away from mine. In this position he can thrust much more forcefully and with every stroke, my pleasure meter goes up a notch.
"Oh, oh!" I call out as we rock back and forth. He's pushing into me so fast and furiously that I almost feel as if he's trying to break me in two. But I wouldn't have it any other way, as each time he slams into me I feel the wave of sensation growing bigger and bigger.
"Oh, God! Abby!" His face contorts and suddenly I feel a huge, jerking thrust inside of me that pushes me to the crest of the wave, causing me to scream out in pleasure. The wave breaks and the sensations wash over me as my muscles contract around him, inspiring several more, smaller, jerks from him . When he's emptied everything he has into me, he collapses on top of me, totally spent.
His head is resting on my shoulder while one of his hands plays idly with my breast. I have a hand resting on his butt, while my other arm has fallen to my side like dead wood. I don't think I could stand up right now if my life depended on it. We stay like this for a while, until he finally moves to lay on his side, next to me, propping himself up on his elbow as he gazes down at me, one finger trailing between my breasts.
"So what do you think? Not too bad, huh?"
I give him a little smile. "Well, it could have been longer."
His face suddenly turns serious. "I'm sorry, Abby. It's just … God, I wanted you so badly … and once we got started … I just couldn't hold back. God, I promise I'll make it up to you. I'm so sorry, I wanted it to be …" He looks upset, close to tears even. Oh geez, I was just joking around with him.
I lay my hand on his cheek. "John? Honey? I was just kidding. It was perfect, really. Just what I needed. And we've got plenty of time for slow and long later. You don't have anything to make up to me … but I am going to hold you to a repeat performance … once we have a chance to recover."
"It was really okay?"
"No. It was more than okay."
"And you did …right?
"Yeah, right there at the end. You were a little distracted at the time."
"Usually I can tell, and I thought that probably … but I just wanted to make sure."
"Oh yeah, I did. And it was a good one. You don't know how much I needed that."
"Oh, I think maybe I do. Hey, where are you going?" He asks, as I slip away from him. I sit up and reach behind him for his t-shirt, slipping it over my head. I stand up and spy my panties not far away and pull those on, too.
"Something else I need," I tell him as I move across, turning back to see him staring after me.
I scramble up off the floor, following Abby toward the living room. I pick up my boxers along the way, stepping into them quickly before plopping down on the couch next to Abby. I watch as she opens the pizza box and takes out the last piece of pizza before dropping the empty box on the floor.
"Hungry?" I ask.
"Guess I worked up an appetite."
"Me too. You gonna share?"
"It's the last piece."
"Yeah, but it's a big piece."
"Hmm … I don't think so."
"Oh come on, please?"
"Nope."
"Why not?" Okay, I know I'm bordering on whining here, but why does she get dibs on the last piece?
"Because I got here first. And I don't want to share."
"Too bad," I say, plucking the pizza out of her hand and taking a bite.
"Carter!"
"I just took a bite." I hand it back to her.
"Great. Now it's got your cooties on it."
"Cooties?"
"If I eat this, then I'll have your cooties in me." She gives me an exaggerated disgusted look, and I'm guessing that after what just went on in the front hall, she's just joking around.
"You've got a lot more than my cooties in you, babe."
"Yeah, about that …"
"Huh?" I shake my head, showing that I'm not really following.
"Well, unless you've changed your mind about waiting awhile to get started on the baby thing, we should probably be more careful from now on."
"You're not on the pill?" I ask, a twinge of panic rising up in me before it quickly turns to something far less scary, but more elusive. Not quite excitement, but certainly not fear.
"Why would I be on the pill?" She asks, lifting the pizza up and taking a bite. I guess she decided that my cooties weren't such a bad thing after all. I just shrug. "Was I ever on the pill? If I wasn't when we were doing it every day, every place … why would I be on it now when up until a few minutes ago I was in the midst of a year and half long dry spell?"
"I don't know …Wait … has it really been a year and a half?"
"Yeah, just about."
"So … since we broke up?"
"Yeah. I haven't exactly had a lot of hot dates the past few months … I've spent all my time here with you."
"So there hasn't been anyone?"
"Nope."
"What about the motorcycle guy?"
"Who?"
"That guy who came to the ambulance bay and picked you up on his motorcycle?"
"Oh, the guy who was giving me a ride to our study group."
"Study group?"
"Yep. He was a med student, too. How do you think he knew to just pull right into the ambulance bay?"
"He looked a little old for a med student."
She rolls her eyes at me, "So do I."
"No, you don't. So you were just study partners?"
"Yep. And you know, you don't have to look so surprised. I know everyone in the ER thinks I'm some kind of slut, but I thought you knew better."
"I do know better. But that doesn't mean … well, if you were seeing someone while I was gone … or once I got back … that would hardly be slutty."
"You thought I was sleeping with the guy on the motorcycle."
"Yeah, but I didn't know he was just from your study group. For all I knew, he was your boyfriend of six months by then."
"I think I might have mentioned something like that. Remember, we were spending a lot of time chatting over coffee by then."
"Yeah, but that doesn't mean that you told me everything."
"I told you nothing. But that's because there was nothing to tell. Work, work, work makes Abby a dull girl. But that's all that was going on."
"Abby … you could never be dull. Not even if you tried."
"You say that like it's a good thing."
"It is."
"I'm not so sure. I thought you wanted … maybe not dull, but steady … ordinary … normal."
"No. I want you."
"Shut up."
"I didn't mean it like that," I tell her. "I just meant that I never know what to expect with you. And I finally realized how much I like that. It keeps life interesting. You're perfectly normal, Abby. But you're anything but ordinary."
"You're pretty extraordinary yourself."
"Thanks. So you gonna share that pizza?"
She stares at me for a minute, and then smiles. "Come and get it." She dangles what's left of the slice of pizza in front of her. I stretch out on the couch and lay my head down in her lap. She dips the pizza down low enough that I can take a bite. "Can you really eat like that?"
"Guess so," I say around a mouthful of pizza.
"I'll save you if you choke."
"Thanks. So … you sure about this whole getting back together thing?"
She seems to be considering, giving me her thinking face. "Yeah, pretty sure." A pleased smile spreads across her face.
"It feels good, doesn't it?"
"Yeah …"
"But?" I ask.
"No but. I was just thinking that it felt a lot like it did before."
"Before when we were together?"
"Well, that too. But mostly I meant before … as in yesterday. When we were just friends, you know."
"Did you think getting back together would change that?"
"I don't know. It seemed to last time. Sex can change things." She shrugs.
"Well, things are different now. We're better now. We won't let it change anything."
"So far that's going well, I guess. After all, here we are back on the couch, as usual."
"With just a few differences. That I happen to think are improvements."
"Well, we're certainly wearing less clothing than usual."
"My point exactly. When we were just friends, we couldn't just sit around in our underwear."
"True."
"Speaking of which, what do you call these things?" I ask, sliding my hand along her hip and slipping a finger into the rim of her underpants.
"Panties?"
"Yeah, I know. But they're … different. Not quite bikinis, but …"
"I think they call them boy-cut. I guess because they kinda look like boys' underwear."
"Except for the pink stripes."
"Yeah, well …"
"I like them. They're sexy."
"Pink-striped, cotton underwear is sexy? Comfortable? Yes. Sexy?"
"Trust me. Sexy. Definitely sexy."
"Hmm … you have any other underwear preferences you care to share?"
"Do you still have those black lace ones? You know, the ones that look like little short-shorts?"
"Yeah."
"Remember the first time you wore those?"
She gives me a wicked grin. "Yeah, I remember that."
"I like those. A lot. With the matching bra … maybe a nice short skirt …" Suddenly, somehow, I'm starting to feel overdressed. Pretty hard to achieve when you're wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts.
"All this talk about my underwear seems to be having an odd effect on your underwear." We both look down at the tent forming in my boxers. Abby sighs. "Again, so soon?"
"I thought you'd be happy about it," I say, pushing the material of my t-shirt that she's wearing out of the way so that I can kiss and nuzzle her belly. "I think I remember you saying something about long and slow, making it last."
Her hand drops on to my head and she runs her fingers through my hair. "Oh, boy. Am I ever gonna be sore in the morning."
I turn my head and look up at her. "Or … I could always just take a cold shower."
"Oh, no way in hell. A little soreness is worth it."
"Yeah?"
"Oh, definitely." She leans down and kisses me. "This is the big fringe benefit to being more than just friends. And I intend to take full advantage of my benefits package."
"So what do you say, Abby? You ready to go to bed?"
"Feeling tired?"
"Not at all."
"Good. In that case …let's go. What are we waiting for?"
"Nothing," I say taking her hand and leading her toward the stairs.
Nothing at all. Finally, we're done with waiting. And it's time to get on with our new life together.