sorry this chapter is so short! it's currently prelim season so i've been spending a ton of time studying recently. the next chapter should probably be out in around early february.
It doesn't even take a night of sleep before she starts to regret sending the text.
In fact, she considers telling him it was just a prank or some similar thinly-veiled excuse, just so she won't have to do anything about… This.
It doesn't help that it's been a few hours and he still hasn't replied, and though she mentally calculates the time difference from Colorado to DC every 15 minutes or so it still doesn't make sense that he hasn't at least seen the message.
When she's feeling calmer and more confident, a glass of wine or two later, she can sort of justify her impulse decision. Rationally, she knows that they probably should talk - it's been almost a month since their Unauthorised Finale™, and yet neither have spoken about the events that transpired, and really, what happened isn't exactly the type of thing that should be swept under the rug.
And beyond that, the conversation with Britta had been enlightening in a way she definitely wasn't expecting. There's still a small part of her that clings to the hope given by her friend's words.
(Because what if this mess - the textual awkwardness, hesitant phone calls, and radio silence - is just an attempt to seem grown-up? To make it look as though he's cooping fine back home, that he's been totally freed by their (admittedly kind of toxic) codependence?
She doesn't let herself dwell on the other implications of it, though. Particularly the ones regarding his new girlfriend.)
And, well, they've been putting this off for God-knows how long. It makes sense that it would have to happen at some point, that they couldn't just ignore this forever.
With the help of more wine, she is able to sleep quite peacefully that night, but when she awakes it is to her phone lighting up with a missed text.
She is hit immediately with an instinct guttural panic and for a second can't really comprehend why… Until, just a moment later, the memories from yesterday come flooding back and all she can think is, ohGodohGodohGodwhathaveIdone
But, she reminds herself, she's a freaking FBI agent and she's handled situations much worse than whatever could possibly be coming, so instead of panicking, she puts on a brave face and reaches towards her night stand.
She's gotten used to his emotionless, cryptic texts over the past few days, so it doesn't really surprise her when he only replies with 4 words.
"is 7pm dc ok?"
(Since it's a Saturday, her only real plans are to go out for a while, see the sights and perhaps get a better feel of the city. By the time she's out the door, there's only a few hours until she'll be due back home for the phone call, but she figures it's enough time to get some things done.
On the bus, she leans her head against the vibrating glass of the window and wills the drumming to overpower her insistent worries.)