Chapter 6

It was eleven thirty, and Chris was curled up on the couch with a cup of tea when Dutch finally got home. She looked up from the TV with a grin when he walked in. "Hey," she said. "How'd the rest of your day go?"

He shrugged, dropping his jacket by the door and loosening his tie. "It was long," he said. "And I'm exhausted."

"Do you want something to eat?"

"Nah," he said as he pulled the tie loose of his collar and began to unbutton his shirt. "I think I just want to take a shower and lay down. Sorry-"

"No, it's OK," Chris said, setting aside her tea. "I'll be gone in an hour, probably."

Dutch looked at her apologetically. "I wish we could have done something tonight."

"Yeah, but that's OK," Chris said again, picking up his jacket and tie. "Just go take a shower."

Eyeing her strangely as he folded the jacket and tie over her arm, Dutch nodded and walked down the hall to the bathroom.


Men seemed to take offense to doing their own laundry. At least that was what Chris had decided when she gathered all of Dutch's laundry and shoved it in the washing machine.

She didn't feel like leaving, so she kept searching for excuses to stay. Part of it was that Dutch's house was so much nicer than her little apartment, and part of it was that over the past few weeks she had grown so attached to Dutch that she hated saying goodbye.

Laundry, dishes, what else can I do? Chris thought as she loaded dishes into the dishwasher. She felt like a common housewife, but that didn't feel too bad.

"What are you still doing here?" Dutch asked, sneaking up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist.

She jumped slightly, but laughed after a moment. "Your house is a disaster," she said. "I thought I would clean it up for you?"

"Thank you," Dutch said, kissing her neck softly. "But you didn't have to. It was fine."

"No, it wasn't," Chris said, pulling away and turning to face him. "Do you feel better?"

His damp hair hung stubbornly in its typical style, and he wore a simply white tee-shirt and black sweatpants that were tattered at the ankle. She noticed now that he was slightly pale and dark circles hung under his eyes.

"Yeah, I do feel a little better," Dutch replied after a moment.

In the other room, the little sandy-gray cat Dutch lovingly called Claudy mewed slightly impatiently.

"How long has been since you fed her?" Chris asked, walking past him into the living room, scooping up the furry creature in her arms and scratching her ears.

"I gave her a bowl of food this morning," Dutch said, following Chris. "It was a big bowl. She's fine."

Sighing, Chris replaced the cat on the couch and turned to Dutch. "I guess I should get out of here."

"You don't have to," Dutch said, slightly suggestive.

Grinning wryly, Chris slipped her hands in her pockets and swung her hips slightly. "Can I stay even if we don't screw around?"

Dutch seemed to consider, looking slightly put out. But he nodded and grinned a little, still looking utterly exhausted. "Why not?"

Chris smiled broadly. "It's been a while since I've had a sleep over."

Rolling his eyes, Dutch walked down the hall to his bedroom.

After a few moments, Chris proceeded to follow Dutch to his bedroom. When she slipped in, he had already ducked under the covers and had them pulled up to his ears.

Jumping on the big bed beside him, Chris leaned back on the headboard and looked to the bedside table. There lay a thick paper back copy of Victor Hugo's Les Misérables with a yellow slip of paper sticking neatly out of the center of the book.

Picking it up, Chris began to flip through absently, reading a few sentences here and there. "Is this good?" She asked.

"What?" Dutch asked, his voice muffled by the thick covers and the pillow he'd shoved his face against.

"Les Misérables. Is it as good as people say it is?"

"Mm-hm."

She took that for a yes and closed the book, laying it back on top of the desk. She flicked the light off and slipped under the covers, laying as close to him as she could. He'd removed the tee-shirt he had been wearing, so she lay her cheek against the bare, warm skin of his back, finding herself suddenly sleepy.