Dean Martin – I've Grown Accustomed To Her Face

Rachel's story had certainly dropped. Taylor had almost forgotten about it, but Sunday was normally a slow news day. The story exploded onto the presses. In the wake of the hearings taking place with Congress, it was all anyone was talking about.

For her part, her social media accounts had been blowing up with messages all morning. Her part in the story was miniscule at best, but because of her role as ambassador to the deviants, people were unduly focused on it. Taylor had also been fielding phone calls and text messages.

Everyone wanted to know more. The story was having its desired effect, she supposed. Sunday was meant to be a day of rest, however, and tomorrow she would have to be right back on the floor, arguing with Ronald Berkley and the rest of Congress. She didn't want to spend her last day off immersed in this as well.

No, Taylor would have preferred to spend the whole day hiding under the blankets with Connor, ignoring the wider world. As it was, he wasn't even here right now. He had gone out to get a brace for her wrist, insisting that she needed to keep it immobile to let it heal. That terrible, worried expression he gave her every time she winced made her eventually give in.

Now she was alone in the hotel room. Rachel had texted her positive messages all day after she let her know that she and Connor had made up. The brunette woman said she would certainly win another award for this article, especially if Taylor was successful in winning citizenship for deviants.

Alex had been quite giddy over the press as well. Her celebrity had been quite muted in comparison to her acting days. Social media celebrity was different than Hollywood, and while she had a steady stream of cameos, interviews, and sponsorships, Alex was certainly welcoming the change of pace.

She didn't know how she felt about it. She had never started this for the fame that it would garner. She wanted to help deviants. She never wanted attention for it.

Sighing, Taylor decided that maybe a hot bath would distract her. At least it would be a valid excuse to ignore her phone for a while. Maybe it would also ease the soreness in her wrist, which ibuprofen and the ice that Connor had forced on her were doing little to alleviate.

The bathroom had a decently sized jacuzzi tub, so she started the hot water and stripped off her clothes while she waited for it to fill. Phone in hand, she placed her earbuds in and started some music, silencing her notifications. Finally, she put her hair up into a bun and sank into the hot water.

She nearly groaned with pleasure. She didn't realize how tense her muscles had been until the water was over her shoulders, easing it away. A sigh escaped her lips, her head falling back against the rim of the tub. She just wished she had some Epsom salts and candles, then it would have been perfect.

As the songs shifted on her playlist, she found herself humming along. Before long, she was singing the words, too. She could vaguely hear her phone still vibrating with messages beside the tub, but she was ignoring it, immersed in the music as much as the water.

When she finally opened her eyes again, she didn't expect to see Connor standing just inside the doorway. Her skin was already flushed from the heat of the bath, but she sunk down lower into the water, embarrassed. Not because she was exposed necessarily. He'd seen every part of her multiple times over the last week.

No, she hadn't expected him to be there, staring at her so intently with his mouth slightly open. She scrambled to silence the music on her phone, splashing water over the side of the tub. In the answering quiet, she peered up at him again uncertainly.

The box containing her prescribed wrist brace was clutched in both of his hands. His eyes were still transfixed on her face, but he'd managed to close his lips. Both of his cheeks were tinged with a slight blue, but she couldn't fathom why he was embarrassed.

"What is it?"

"You were singing." He said softly, as if that were explanation enough. Her blush darkened, and he stepped closer. "I heard it when I returned from the store. It was beautiful."

Her mouth dropped open then. Connor tilted his head, and she managed to close it again. "Thanks."

"Will you sing again?" He asked. She could have melted at the eager tone of voice. How effortlessly beautiful and innocent his face was as the question left his lips. Instead, she felt herself frown.

"I don't like singing for other people," she said honestly, because she didn't want to lie just as much as she didn't want to disappoint him. He looked puzzled, instead.

"Why not?"

"People always compare me to my mom," she said reluctantly. This only served to confuse Connor further.

"You don't sound like your mother." He said, rather matter-of-factly. Taylor's eyes widened, and she looked at him in surprise. A second later he seemed to realize what he said and averted his eyes.

"How do you know what my mother sounds like?" She asked. They sat in silence for a moment, Connor still avoiding her gaze, before he spoke again.

"I have listened to her music." He admitted. The blue of his cheeks deepened, and he added, hesitantly, "I have also watched all of your movies and television shows. And many of your interviews."

"When did you have time for that?" She asked, stunned. He shifted those brown eyes back to her when he didn't detect any anger in her tone, still looking quite sheepish.

"I started when we were still working the deviant case. During downtime." He said. She tried to imagine Connor watching episodes of Chloe's Corner in his head before showing up at the Eden Club to catch deviants and didn't know whether to laugh or groan. "They are widely available on streaming services. I didn't violate my promise."

Taylor did laugh then, mostly because she wasn't sure what else to do. He was incredibly endearing, even while admitting to being a total creep. She held her hand out to him. "Do you want to join me?"

For the first time, his eyes flickered down from her face, to the parts of her barely covered by the bath water. He swallowed, but after a moment's hesitation, he sat her wrist brace down and started pulling his jacket off. She was content to watch him strip, figuring she deserved the free show after what he'd just confessed.

He slid into the tub behind her, sliding his arms around her waist. She leaned into him, closing her eyes again, a smile touching her face. And because she couldn't deny him anything, she said, "What would you like me to sing?"

"Anything."

"This is supposed to be a good one." Taylor clicked on one of the movies on the screen with the remote in her hand, bringing the description up. Connor glanced over it briefly, but for all he could tell it appeared to be a children's movie. Not that he cared either way. He had admitted to watching multiple seasons of Chloe's Corner, after all, less than a couple of hours ago.

"Okay." He said when he realized she was looking up at him expectantly, waiting for approval. Satisfied, she hit the 'play' button before she nestled closer to his side. Placing his arm around her, he tucked his hand against her waist.

Connor found he enjoyed the movie more than he anticipated. Taylor seemed to enjoy his reactions more than the movie itself. They put on an action movie next that she couldn't quite get into. Instead she offered commentary on the actors that she knew and what they were like in real life while he insisted that she order lunch.

She picked apart the food on her plate with waning interest. At times she delved into her food with enthusiasm and others, like now, she treated it as a task, a chore she had to get through before she moved on. He tried, as usual, to divert his attention elsewhere. Even the winding down action of the film onscreen wasn't doing much for him at the moment.

He could almost feel Taylor's eyes studying him from her seat across the table, periodically, while she stirred the tines of her fork through the mush of mashed potatoes in front of her. She was clearly finished with the meal, but she appeared to be as done with the movie as he was, though the subject of her thoughts eluded him.

"You're going to have to find a hobby, you know." She said it seemingly out of nowhere, but it must have been what she was contemplating while she stared at him. Connor blinked as he finally met her gaze, abandoning his play at distracting himself. Her blue eyes immediately dropped back to her container of food, though, and she worried the edge of her lips between her teeth.

"A hobby." He repeated it, willing her to elaborate. She placed her fork down, finally, and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin, stalling for time he deduced as her gaze jumped around the table. Maybe she hadn't meant to say it out loud. Her other wrist was in the brace he had gotten for her, her arm resting on the table, but he saw her fingers twitch before she pulled it back into her lap with her other hand.

"Yeah. Interests. You know, things you do in your spare time." She raised her chin, looked him in the eyes again. "For fun. You already know most of mine."

"I do?" He asked, more perplexed than ever. He wasn't sure why she was bringing this up now, but she appeared resolute as she nodded.

"Dancing," she said pointedly, raising her eyebrows at him. "Running." Her eyes flickered away for a second. She wavered, then said, "I like to knit."

"You knit?" He said, surprised, still a little bewildered by the conversation. Taylor nodded again, her cheeks turning pink.

"My therapist suggested it, a long time ago. To help with my anxiety. It didn't, but I still liked it." She explained it as though it needed justification. Like knitting wasn't a perfectly acceptable pastime.

Connor considered her again, blue eyes still diverted, cheeks rosy. He tilted his head slightly, which prompted her to look at him again. "Why are you bringing this up now?"

The question made her purse her lips. As the color faded from her face, the silence settled in around them. Her expression remained indecipherable for the duration, until she tilted her head too, mirroring his posture.

"Do you remember the case with the pigeons?" Her question caught him off guard, but he did remember it. In fact, the scene appeared within his consciousness, the apartment full of birds, the deviant that they had chased across the rooftops, where Hank had almost fallen to his death. He'd made the choice to save him and let the deviant go.

"Yes." The look on Taylor's face now suggested that she'd already deduced that he had remembered the case, but she hadn't interrupted his thoughts. Her eyebrows had drawn together, just slightly.

"Do you remember what I said, about the deviant from that case?" Her voice was softer now, but Connor had no problem hearing it over the music now playing from the television behind him. The credits were rolling. He remembered Hank asking about the pigeons. Taylor's response about the newly turned deviant's fixation turned obsession.

"I do," he answered, equally quiet. He was starting to get a vague idea of where the conversation was going, but he stayed silent while she searched his face. Worked herself up to what she wanted to say next. His LED was flickering a soft yellow.

Taylor's face softened when she finally spoke, "I just want to know that if—" Her mouth open and closed. She floundered in her hesitation for a few seconds before she corrected herself. "When I go back to Los Angeles, I want to know you're going to be okay."

Connor blinked again, rapidly this time. He tried to consider what she'd said in its entirety, tried not to focus on how she'd slipped her when for an if and instead sort through everything she'd said for the question. She continued to watch him, not looking away, even now.

"I love you." The silence had become consuming. The credits had finished, and it was just the two of them, staring at each other across the table. She had pierced it with her words, and now she leaned forward, her face earnest. "I don't want to be the reason you can't be happy."

"You want me to get hobbies," he began slowly, his LED still circling yellow, "so that you can feel better about leaving me?"

"No!" Her hands came up, reaching across the table toward him. The effort turned her wrist, made her wince. He extended his hand to meet hers, closing his fingers over hers to still the movement. He wished he hadn't said it, but he couldn't take it back.

He recalled, suddenly, the thing she had told him, sitting here nearly a week ago. How loving someone gave them the power to hurt you. Only days had passed, and he could understand what she meant so much more now. Here they were, at this very same table, hurting each other without meaning to.

"Don't worry about me." Connor said gently. The anxious look lining her face dissolved as she laughed, but it was short and mirthless.

"That's not the first time you've told me that." Taylor said, settling into a small smile, still strained at the edges. She slid her other hand into his free one. "I don't want to argue with you."

A moment passed, then two. He slid his thumbs over her knuckles before he released her hands, moving to clear the table. She moved from her chair toward the bed, so when he turned around, she had already nestled back into the pillows.

Another smile stretched over her face. She reached her uninjured hand out for him. He went to her without hesitation, sliding in next to her again, placing his arms around her. She closed her eyes when he slid his hands through her hair, and he leaned closer, until their noses were nearly touching.

"Are you concerned that I'm fixated on you?" He asked her in the quiet. Her eyes opened once more, but he had been teasing when he asked. Mostly. His fingers traced the angle of her jaw while he felt the heat crawling over her skin.

"Are you denying it?" She returned. Connor felt the quickening of her heart rate as his fingers brushed against her pulse. The conversation felt tremulous, but she was smiling still. He touched the edge of her lip with his thumb, watched her tongue dart out to wet her lips. It was hard to resist the temptation to kiss her right then.

"No." He felt Taylor's hands sliding down his chest, sneaking beneath his shirt. He swallowed, trying to focus. "Things will be different. When this is over. There hasn't been time."

The smile flickered away from her face. A look passed through her eyes as her hands stilled. It was gone a second later, so quickly he could have imagined it, but he knew that he hadn't. She didn't believe him. Not really.

"It was supposed to be our day off," she said. Changing the subject again.

"I believe it still is." He said in reply, moving his hand to push the errant strands of hair out of her face. Her blue eyes followed his movements before making contact with his brown again.

"I just wanted to relax. Pretend like none of this is happening. Just for today." Her voice got quieter as she spoke. Connor paused. The desperation in her expression was barely disguised.

He conceded to let her hide, just this once. Because she'd implicitly asked, and she was right. They had one day off. Tomorrow the two of them would be back in front of Congress. He could give her this.

He moved closer, pressed his lips over hers. A shudder went through her as her eyes fluttered closed. The hands under his shirt moved again, sliding along his synthetic skin until her left arm was curled around him. Taylor deepened the kiss herself, her other hand clumsily working his buttons free.

Connor was tugging on the hem of her shirt when he heard her sharp intake of breath. He broke away, his hand coming up to stop the movement of her injured right wrist. "Be careful."

Tears collected in the corners of her eyes, and she blinked rapidly trying to dispel them. He loosened his hold, worrying that he had caused her pain when he grabbed her. Her lip trembled, then her mouth twisted downward, and she ducked her head against his neck.

He expected her to start crying. She didn't. She laid against him, motionless, face pressed into the crook of his neck. He could feel her breaths tickling against his synthetic skin. Slowly, he released her arm and slid both of his arms around her as carefully as he could manage, given their position.

"Hey, it's okay."

"I'm tired of this." Her fingers tightened on his back. "I couldn't even come back to the hotel by myself. I hate feeling helpless. I'm so frustrated."

"It's okay." He said again, running his fingers through her hair. He didn't know what else to say. Taylor relaxed her arm, just a little, but stayed where she was in his arms. "This is not going to go on forever."

The silence closed in once more. She shifted her head to his shoulder, but he could still feel her breaths tickling gently against his neck. Connor didn't think she would think say anything else as the minutes ticked on.

"Thank you for coming with me." He was wrong about that, too. "I know I gave you a hard time, but I don't know what I would do without you here. Go insane, probably."

"No. You're stronger than that." He shifted away, until he could see her face again. Her eyes were closed, right wrist cradled against her chest. In one movement, he flipped her onto her back. Taylor blinked her eyes open then, wide and surprised. "Don't move."

He pressed his lips against the corner of her mouth, moved to the edge of her jaw. Her breathing started to quicken before he made it to the sensitive spot behind her ear. A soft moan escaped her, and she reached her arms up to circle his neck.

"I said don't move." He said again, catching both of her wrists easily, pinning them with his hand. He pulled back to look into her eyes, the corner of his mouth lifting. The flush covering her face darkened. He dipped his head back down, pressed his lips against the hollow of her throat.

"Connor—"

"Be still." He moved her hands above her head before releasing them, sliding his other hand under the hem of the t-shirt she was wearing. As his fingers traced along her skin, he planted kisses back up her jaw, until he was looking in her eyes again.

He paused there, scanning her face. She was nearly panting now, but she noticed his hesitation, the hand that had stilled just over her ribcage. A smile came to her face, but she remained unmoving beneath him otherwise. "Kiss me."

So he did.