Disclaimer: Yeah, they're mine. I rule. And by that, I mean I own nothing.
The song used is 'For Crying Out Loud (You Know I Love You)' by Meatloaf.
A/N: I thought I would never have time to sit down and write this chapter, but I finally had a few hours that didn't have to be filled with work, so ha! Thanks to Alex, for her "encouragement"…which very closely resembles nagging. Go figure. But think of it as Chipotle for the soul, babe. ;)
Thank you again to everyone who has reviewed. They make my day!
CHAPTER 4: FOR CRYING OUT LOUD
"I was lost 'til you were found,
and I never knew how far down I was falling
before I reached the bottom.
I was cold and you were fire,
and I never knew how the pyre could be burning
on the edge of the ice field…"
His socks are mixed in with hers.
It's the first thing she notices when she pulls the laundry from the dryer. She cannot remember if she even realized it when she started the wash earlier. But sure enough, there are his shirts, boxers, jeans, all scattered in with her stuff.
She thinks that maybe this should bother her in some respect – after all, what is she, his maid? – but it doesn't. The same way it doesn't bother her when he pours her coffee for her in the morning, always in the blue mug with the moose on it because he once figured out that it's her favorite, or how he turns up the thermostat when he comes home and hears the shower running so she won't be cold when she gets out.
At one point, it would have terrified her, being known so well and cared for so completely. It breeds dependence, and she has always loathed the very idea of it.
Now…well, not so much.
She can't help but smile as she glances at her watch. She's still somewhat surprised at how readily she lets herself need him these days, and at the girlish excitement she feels at the prospect of his being off work in three hours.
Of course, she muses, it has certainly taken her long enough to get to this point. Too much time gone by, too much hurt.
So she's trying her best not to go back. For the both of them. Things are finally good, and she's not willing to lose this. Not again. So she looks forward to their future, and works for that rather than hiding in the past.
She tosses the last of the clothes into her basket, and turns to head back upstairs, flicking the light out on her way.
"For taking in the rain when I'm feeling so dry,
for giving me the answers when I'm asking you why.
My, oh my, for that, I thank you…"
She's folding his t-shirts and listening to the Pixies when the buzzer sounds.
"You left your sweater at work earlier – Carter was worried you might need it." Susan's eyes are bright with laughter as she enters the apartment.
"He made you come all the way over here to bring me a sweater? I have others, you know." Abby grins, taking the garment from her friend and closing the door.
"That's what I told him, but he thought you might want this one today. You've got him very well-trained."
She shakes her head, but she can't help grinning. "He's hopeless."
"Yeah, but you like it."
"Please." But she feels the blush creeping up into her cheeks.
"Ha. Don't even try and deny it, Abby."
"Coffee?" She tries to divert Susan's attention, heading into the kitchen.
"Decaf. And way to change the subject there. Very slick."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Really? Let me refresh your memory. Your boyfriend is so whipped—"
"—He is not!"
"Okay, fine, so enamored, that he felt you couldn't wait three hours to have this particular sweater returned to you because you just might be unable to bring yourself to wear another one, having gotten your heart set on—"
"—He's just being sweet!"
"Sweet? Abby, Chuck's idea of sweet is leaving me some hot water in the morning. Come on."
"How is Chuck, anyway?" She sits across from her friend at the kitchen table, cradling her mug – the blue one with the moose, of course. She realizes that he must wash it every morning and evening after she uses it, so that it'll be ready for the next pot.
"…and then he tells me how he's always wanted to go hang-gliding…Abby? You okay?"
She shakes her head, startled. "Sorry, Suze…just slipped away for a minute."
"Something the matter?"
She shakes her head, pursing her lips, trying to find the right words to explain that this little gesture is kinder than just about anything anyone has ever done for her. "No, everything's fine. I just…realized that Carter washes my mug everyday."
She doesn't recognize how odd this statement must sound until she hears Susan giggle. "And they say chivalry is dead."
The corners of her mouth turn up as she rolls her eyes. "No! I mean, I have, like, ten other mugs here, but…"
She sees Susan's still laughing, and she waves her hand dismissively. "You know, never mind. So Chuck wants to do what?"
Her friend goes back to the original story, about Chuck and hang-gliding and other brilliant ideas, and even though she's listening, she can't help but stare at the cup in front of her with a hint of a smile.
"For coming to my room when you know I'm alone,
for finding me a freeway and driving me home.
And you got to know, for that, I serve you…"
She's finally gotten the laundry folded, Susan having left to go meet Chuck for dinner about an hour ago. A precariously balanced stack of jeans and shirts is piled in her arms, reaching to her forehead, so she's having to walk carefully, with bumping into furniture as her guide.
She drops the load on the bed, and begins putting the clothes in their respective places. She tugs open the third drawer on the left, deposits his t-shirts. Drawer above it, his boxers and socks. She likes the symmetry – his drawers matching hers on the other side of the bureau.
She wonders when she became such a sap, and thinks it probably came to fruition the day she'd cleared out half of her closet and dresser for him.
He'd come home to find her standing amidst stacks of clothes, with even more covering the bed.
"Did the closet throw up?" He'd grinned at her from the doorway.
"You think everything is so funny." She'd glared at him as she climbed over a stack of sweaters to kiss him hello.
He'd wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. "So…what are you doing, anyway?"
"Well," she'd said, pulling away and making her way back across the room, "I got tired of tripping over SOMEONE'S bags every morning, so I'm cleaning out some space."
He'd chuckled, having found her sprawled on the floor numerous times, claiming that her early-morning, caffeine-deprived state prevented her from seeing his duffels. "So what am I getting – the bottom drawer?"
She'd looked up from gathering some hangers in surprise. "Well, I was going to give you half of the dresser and the closet…why? Do you only want one drawer?" Nervous, she'd wondered if she should have asked him beforehand. She'd assumed it would be easier this way, given that they'd been staying at her place since their kiss on the roof so many weeks ago. This was unfamiliar territory to her, being the one to initiate a new step.
"No…I'm just surprised." He'd looked so pleased that her doubts had been laid to rest immediately. He'd weaved through her piles to reach her and slipped his arms around her once more. "Thank you."
She'd grinned into his chest, squeezed him back. "Yeah, well, just don't go thinking I'm doing this for you or anything. This is just so I don't break a leg falling over your cra—"
But he'd cut her off with a deep kiss which she'd eagerly reciprocated, and they'd wound up lying on the piles of clothing on the bed and…
…yeah.
Flushed, she checks her watch with renewed interest.
"For pulling me away, when I'm starting to fall,
for revving me up when I'm starting to stall.
And you've got to know, for that, I want you…"
Laundry put away, she wanders into the bathroom, hanging up fresh towels for the both of them.
She pauses at the tub, reaches down to pick up two pillar candles at either end, long burnt out and forgotten.
It had been a particularly frustrating day, and she'd returned home, completely drained.
"Hey…Susan called, she said you'd had a rough day." He'd greeted her at the door, ready to take her coat.
"Understatement of the year," she'd muttered, shrugging away his attempts to help.
"What happened?"
"What didn't?" She'd stepped around him, eager for nothing more than a shower and the bed.
"Ab…"
"Look, Carter, I just…I want to forget about today, alright?"
He'd raised his hands in defense. "Okay."
She'd nodded, making her way through the living room and the bedroom, ducking into the bathroom…
…to find a steaming bath already drawn, her pajama pants and a tank top folded on the counter, and two candles, flickering softly, on the floor by the tub.
"Carter—" She'd turned and run straight into his chest.
"Yeah, I just thought—"
"—you are amazing."
He'd laughed at that, cupping her cheek in his hand. "I just thought you might need something to help you relax after such a long day, so when Susan called...anyway, don't let it get cold."
"John…" She'd been at a complete loss, close to tears, so touched at his kindness. He'd smiled down, seen the look on her face, and hugged her.
"It's okay…"
She'd shaken her head against him. "It's not okay…it's not fair for me to come home and take out my bad day on you. I'm sorry…"
He'd held her tighter. "It happens to the best of us. Now come on…are you going to let all my hard work go to waste? The water's getting cold."
She'd begun to undress, and he'd moved towards the door before she stopped him with a hand on his arm.
"Hey."
He'd turned. "Yeah?"
She'd given him a lopsided grin that smote his heart, and a slight nod towards the bathtub. "Join me?"
"For taking and for giving and for playing the game,
for praying for my future in the days that remain.
Oh, Lord, for that, I hold you…"
She collapses on the couch, simultaneously reaching for the remote and a medical journal lying on the end table, sinking back into the cushions with a sigh.
She jerks awake at the sound of a key in the door, unaware that she'd dozed off. Running a hand through her hair, she turns around with a smile as the door opens.
"Hey..." she calls as he enters, dropping his bag by the door.
"Nice hair," is his reply, as he hangs up his coat and comes over to kiss her.
She rabbit-punches his arm as he pulls away. "Thanks. How was work?"
His groan comes from the kitchen, as she hears him pulling out the milk.
"That good, huh?" She goes in to meet him, propping herself against the doorframe.
He makes a face over the top of his glass. "Yeah, if by good you mean completely insane."
She snickers, reaching up to flatten his own messy hair as he drinks. It is being able to do these little things that reaffirms her decision to move on.
With him, of course. Always with him.
Straightening his hair. Kissing him. Laughing with him. Holding his hand when they walk. Sneaking moments together during their shifts.
She is in love with being in love, with knowing that even when her smile fades, it will come back.
"Sorry to hear that. Everything okay?" Satisfied with her handiwork, she steps back, leaning against the table.
He nods, putting his glass in the sink. "Yeah, just incredibly busy. And all I wanted was to come home to you."
Home.
She can't help but smile whenever he calls this little apartment home. And truth be told, she's found herself again thinking of it as their place as opposed to just hers.
And it thrills her to no end that this doesn't scare her anymore.
"Did Susan bring your sweater by?"
She rolls her eyes at him. "Yeah. You know, I do have a closet full of warm clothing. This being Chicago and all."
He ducks his head, and she could swear that he's blushing. "Yeah, I know…but since you'd picked that one out this morning…"
He trails off and gives a little shrug and a crooked smile which makes her fall for him all over again.
She reaches up to press her lips to his. "But I appreciated the thought."
This appeases him, and he leans down to claim another kiss from her. As he pulls away, he asks, "Is it pathetic that I missed you today? I mean, for the six hours that I was still there after you left?"
She laughs out loud at this, remembering her frequent watch checks throughout the day.
And she's grateful, so thankful for this, for all of this – for him, for being here with him, for feeling safe and peaceful and content in her own life.
"Completely pathetic. But you know what?"
"What?"
She leans in to whisper in his ear, her smile broadening.
"I missed you too."
"But most of all, for crying out loud, for that I love you…
When you're crying out loud,
you know I love you."
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