A/N: I'm not really satisfied with how this chapter turned out...it seems way too OOC. This is like my fourth attempt at it, though, so I don't think it's going to get any better, no matter how many times I re-write it.
He sighed and flexed his fingers again on her stomach. "What is it that I'm not telling you? You can't blame me for not saying something I don't know I'm supposed to say."
Alex snorted indelicately, then pushed his hand away and and sat up with, for once, little pain. She crossed her legs, indian style, and lifted her chin, staring him down. "How about this: you tell me why, if your reasons for keeping me at arms' length last week were that I was drugged and emotionally unstable . . . then why now, when I'm neither, are you even less willing to discuss things?"
He looked down at his hand and verified that it was no longer on her ribs, or anywhere else on her. "Lie back down," he coaxed, trying to ignore her question. "I know you were more comfortable like that."
"No."
"Yes."
"No! I'm fine like this, Bobby. Although you seem to have missed the memo, I am getting better. Give me a couple days and I won't need to have you wash my hair, either," she said, turning her back to him as best she could, given the way she was sitting.
He sighed. "I'm not arguing with that. I just . . . don't hurt yourself just to make a point to me."
"I'll let you give me a massage later, how's that?" she shot back sarcastically, not even trying to sound like she believed it was a real option.
He just stared at her for a second. "Why are you suddenly angry with me?"
"I'm not angry! I'm just trying to have a conversation, and every time it almost happens, you derail it!"
He crossed his arms. "I'd probably be more amenable to your demands if you'd stop yelling at me."
"I'm not yelling at you." She mirrored his defensive posture, but lowered her voice a notch.
"You were yelling a minute ago."
"Well, I'm not now. So converse."
He opened his mouth obediently, then paused. "What am I supposed to be talking about?"
"Me!" She moved to stand up, but found her shoulders being held in place by his hands. "Let me up, I'm tired of this."
"Lie down," he repeated impassively, wrapping an arm around her shoulders from behind and using the weight of his body to pull her backwards. "There," he said, a measure of satisfaction in his voice, when she had her head on his legs again. Granted, she was glaring up at him, but at least she wasn't fighting him. "Don't tell me this isn't more comfortable than sitting up and twisting around every time you say something to me."
Alex found herself pinned by his arm, which was still stretched across the front of her shoulders. Actually, it had slipped a little, and now it was . . . "Bobby?" she mumbled, her chin pressing into his forearm every time she opened her mouth.
"What?"
"You have your arm around my neck."
He blinked and looked down, realizing that he had her in a position that resembled a very relaxed headlock. "Uh . . . sorry about that," he managed as he tried to extract his arm. "Are you ok?"
She nodded. "Yeah. Actually, I don't really have a problem with it being there, but I figured you would."
"Excuse me?"
She shrugged. "Well, as long as you don't squeeze, it's just kind of like being hugged upside-down."
"If you want to be hugged, it's probably safer to do it right-side up," he replied without thinking.
She raised her eyebrows. "And are you saying that right-side-up hugs are available to me now? Because I've been getting the impression they're not."
He stopped moving with his hand halfway to her hair. "It's not that . . .Well, it's just that, uh . . . oh, I don't know. I'm trying to avoid it."
She reached up and took his hand, pulling it down to rest on her shoulder. "At least you're telling the truth now. Want to go for the gold and try to actually tell me what the problem is, while you're at it?"
"It's not a good idea."
"What's not? Letting whatever it is you're afraid of happen, or telling me about it?"
"Both."
"Do you have any idea how infuriating you're being right now?"
"I'm trying not to be, really. Just tell me what it is I'm supposed to do, and I'll try to do it."
"You already asked that five minutes ago, and when I told you, you ignored it." She sighed and laced her fingers through his on her shoulder. "We're going in circles."
He looked at their joined hands, then back at her face. "You asked me why I don't want to talk about . . . things . . . with you."
She nodded and continued to look at him expectantly. "Keep talking," she ordered when he didn't add anything to his statement. "You get an A on the memorization task, but you still have the essay question to answer."
He slowly pulled his hand away from hers, and she was getting ready to throw in the towel and mutter something obscene when he said quietly, "It's dangerous."
She turned her head so she could see his face better, trying to make some sense of his statement. "What is?"
He shook his head silently and slid his arm under her shoulders to lift her up to a sitting position.
"For god's sake, Bobby, you were forcing me to lie down five seconds ago. If you want me to sit up now, all you have to do is ask," she growled, moving to support herself on her elbows so he didn't have to keep holding her up.
When she started to actually get to her feet, the hand that had been under her shoulders moved on top of them again and applied just enough pressure to counterbalance her movement. "Don't. I don't want you to move. I'm just trying to . . . show you."
She was sitting up now, her back to his side and his hand cupping one of her shoulders. "Show me what? Stop with the guessing games!"
He began to slide his fingers into her hair, then paused and seemed to consider something. "Not like this."
"Not like wha- Bobby!" she interrupted herself when he pulled his hand out of her hair and stood up. "Don't you dare try to walk away from this again."
"I'm not. Come on." Without giving her time to cooperate on her own, he reached down and pulled her up by her arms.
"Not that I'm likely to have an objection to whatever it is you're about to do," she said, resisting for a second when he tried to pull her toward the kitchen, "but do you maybe want to give me a hint?"
"No."
She sighed, wondering what was going through his head. Odds were good that it was something she'd like, given that it seemed to have been something she'd said that set him off on this, but even counting only things she'd like, there was still way too long a list of things he could do in the next few minutes. "Ok, fine, no hint. Whatever floats your boat," she said with a shrug, this time allowing him to tow her along when he tried again to pull her toward the kitchen.
He stopped short in the middle of the kitchen, between the counter and the refrigerator, and looked hard at her face. "Are you going to freak out if I move you closer to the counter?"
"Huh?" It took her a second to figure out what he was asking, then another second to figure out the answer. "I don't think so. Not now that you gave me a warning."
"Good." He put an arm around the front of her shoulders and urged her backward a few steps until his back hit the counter and her back was pressed against him. Moving his arm up to her neck and using his elbow to raise her chin, he waited a second until he was sure he wasn't going to get a negative reaction from her for the movement, then ducked his head and whispered against her ear, "I told you it would be dangerous, Alex."
She stood against him, wide-eyed, with his left arm tightly around her hips and his right loosely around her neck, and shivered, not knowing if it was from feeling his breath against her ear or from the aggressive way he was holding her to him. Whichever it was, it was also speeding up her heart; she could feel it pounding in her chest. "I'm willing to take my chances."
"Are you?" he replied with quiet intensity, his mouth still against her ear. "Better make sure, because for the next few minutes, I don't think I'm going to be up to protecting you."
She shivered again, harder this time, and decided that it wouldn't matter if it was multiplication tables he was whispering into her ear - just the sensation of his lips against it would have made her heart skip a few beats. "I don't need protection from you, Bobby. Or from whatever it is you're thinking."
"Good," he said again, his mouth traveling from her ear to her cheek. His right hand moved away from her neck, only to reappear seconds later in her hair, pulling with just enough gentle force to make her tip her head back and slightly to the side. She allowed the movement, and he kept his eyes open, watching hers darken, for a long moment before he kissed her.
Alex lifted her chin higher as their lips met, giving him better access. A second later, she felt his fingers leave her hair and was about to make a protest - somehow - when she felt his hand cup her cheek, his fingers curling around her chin where they were too long for her face.
He pulled both his hands and lips away after a few seconds and looked down at her, waiting for a reaction that would reveal to him what she felt.
Deprived of the support his hand had been providing, she let her head drop forward. In fact, she realized once she queried the rest of her body, all of her felt a little undersupported now that his arms weren't around her. She sagged back against him. "Jesus."
She expected him to respond with some remark about how he'd warned her or how he'd known this wasn't a good idea, but he did neither. Instead, he raised his hand again and used one knuckle to lightly trace a line from the scar on her temple to the now-faded bruises that circled her neck, not saying anything at all.
Without really pulling away, she turned to face him. "Bobby?"
He rested his hands on her shoulders, thumbs brushing her jaw as he leaned down to kiss her again.
Alex was perfectly willing to be distracted, and she kissed him back enthusiastically until, without thinking, she raised her arms to put them around his neck and felt a sharp pain in her side. Swallowing a startled squeak, she dropped her arms and wrapped them around his waist instead, hoping he hadn't noticed her flinch.
He noticed, of course, and without hesitation, he smoothly turned them around and lifted her onto the counter he'd been leaning against, letting his hands linger on her hips even after she was securely seated.
This time she did squeak, in surprise rather than pain, and pulled slightly away from him. "Bobby."
"What?" he responded gruffly, his eyes focused on where his hands were touching her body, instead of on her face.
"Time out." She put a hand against his chest, not pushing him away but not allowing him to lean in any closer, either.
"What?" His hands roamed up toward her waist, moving so lightly that she could hardly feel them.
She sighed. "I said 'time out.' As in, stop for a second."
He pulled his hands back and rested them on her knees. "I warned you this would be -"
"I know, I know." She laid a hand against his cheek, running her thumb over his lips. "And I'm not objecting to it, believe me. I'm just telling you to hold on for a minute."
"Why?"
"Do you always forget how to use complete sentences when you kiss a girl, or am I just special?"
That comment came from far enough out of left field to catch his attention. "I can use complete sentences. There, see?"
"Well, keep it up. 'What?' and 'Why?' get tedious after a while."
His eyes were starting to look less glazed over by the time he sighed and said, "Why did you want to stop, if it's not because you had an objection to it?"
"Well, let's see." She lifted her index finger off his cheek as if counting to one. "First off, there's the part where your conscious mind seems to have spent the last ten minutes somewhere that's definitely not here. Then," she went on, lifting the next finger, too, "there's the fact that believe it or not, I find this all slightly overwhelming. Finally," she added, looking around the room pointedly, "there's the part where we're doing this in my kitchen. On the counter."
He blinked. "Well, the couch would have been uncomfortable for you and I didn't think the bed was a good idea."
She just stared disbelievingly at him for a second before the absurdity got to her and she had to laugh. "Thanks," she managed when she finally got control of her giggles a minute later. "I needed that."
"Uh . . . you're welcome. So, uh . . . how do I tell when you stop being overwhelmed?"
"If you promise not to go into the utterly-focused-and-not-talking routine again, then how 'bout right now?"