It's nearly lunchtime and admittedly, Gillian's been watching the foyer of the guidance suite. She's not had appointments for the last period, so her door is open and she can see everyone who comes and goes (she hadn't actually realised how busy the suit could be). What she's doing is looking for Cal. He said he'd go see a doctor today and every other time he's left the house he's come to see her. He hasn't said he's going to stop by or anything, she's just… half expecting it (or hoping). He's shown up early every other time so when there's ten minutes to go before the bell will ring, Gillian gets a sinking disappointment that he's not going to make it. She takes out her phone and checks for messages from him, but there are none (no messages at all and she thinks that no one has contacted her on that number yet either. Who would?) So she texts him instead, asking if he's in the neighbourhood. Nice and casual.
Cal's reply comes quickly: No. At home.
Gillian has a new message open to reply to him when another comes through before she can start typing. Was I meant to be?
No, she tells him. She was just asking. He said he was going to be in town so she wondered if he was going to stop by. Its ok, she'll go to the staff lounge to reheat her leftovers.
There's a longer pause this time. But when the message comes through Cal's 'voice' sounds remorseful: Sorry. Went out, came straight back.
(What she doesn't know is that Cal is back at the house, proper kicking himself for not thinking to stop in for lunch. Golden opportunity wasted. And from her texts, he's thinking she's disappointed that he hasn't visited. He's an idiot).
Gillian tells him to not worry about it. It's not a big deal. The bell goes and signals her lunch break and so she heads through the crowded hallways of teenagers drifting to new lessons to the staff lounge (it's a short distance). The thing with split lunch times for staff is that it means that the room is only partially used during this time, and therefore there aren't many people there. Gillian uses a microwave to heat her casserole (which smells extremely good. Cal really is a very good cook. He puts her to shame) and stands by as it goes around and around. Not to guard it (there isn't exactly a crowd), but because she's not familiar enough with these people to strike up a casual conversation. It's not like her to be so… cautious (it's not because she's afraid; that would be ridiculous), it's just that, well, it's not even that she thinks any one of these people could be a Jerome Willis spy, or that someone's going to figure out who she is and nark on her… it's just that she's worried that if she talks about herself she'll let slip details that don't add up, or forget what she's told someone and poke holes in her own story. It's unnerving to not be sure of who she is (for a second, she thinks Cal's got it easier, sitting at home, not having to explain himself to anyone, and then she remembers that he was trying to talk to her last night, about being… not happy, and she vows to bring it up when she gets home that evening; it sounded like it was important. Besides, when does he ever come to her to talk about something?)
The microwaves goes dark and signals it's done. Gillian opens a drawer looking for cutlery and comes up short. "The next one over," a male voice directs and she's glancing up to shoot Reece a quick 'thank you' before finding the right implement. His smile is easy (and gorgeous, to be fair) but she vacates the kitchenette area before he can strike up more conversation. She likes him and all, but she's wary, for all the reasons stated above. Gillian finds an empty table, tries not to think about any kind of perceived slight she might have demonstrated to the other teachers sitting at the other tables (this isn't high school… … …ok it is, but she's not having to deal with teenagers in here. They're all adults). She gets her phone out of her pocket, checks for texts from Cal and finds, to her surprise, a pouting emoji (it's a sad face) and 'I wish I had'.
It makes her heart beat a little funny, enough for her to notice. She has a sudden strong wish for him to be there. Sitting in a staff room like this, with her left over's lunch, it reminds her of being at the Group, and she misses it and him (misses the way things were and could have been). And yes, it wasn't often she got to sit and take her lunch like that, but when she did, especially when they were first starting out, Cal would be there with her. She wants him with her there now. She feels like a five year old on the first day of school, with no friends to sit with, and she's in danger of letting the hiding witness situation overwhelm her.
She texts Cal back while her lunch cools (the irony of heating it and letting it get cool again): me too. She leaves it with just those two words and knows he'll be able to read everything else she didn't say. The regret feels intense and she wonders why it's bothering her so much today. Because it's Friday and she's a bit over being at work? She's maybe a bit hormonal? She's homesick? (That might not be a question.)
"That smells amazing."
"That smells amazing."
Gillian looks up as Reece takes a seat next to her, his own lunch on a plate in front of him (sandwiches and potato chips). She gives him a polite smile (forced, but he wouldn't know so). "It does," she agrees.
"Your complication cook?"
It takes a second for Gillian to get what he means.
"Cal?" He goes on, with a sideways smile. "Your complication?"
"Yes," Gillian says stiltedly. "He cooks," she affirms, though she's not sure she's happy with the 'complication' part (even if it's probably an apt adjective. The point is, it's not up to Reece to decide whether her relationship with Cal is complicated or not. Even if Cal was the one who said it, she begrudgingly adds, it's none of Reece's business). Gillian keeps her phone in her lap so she can feel it buzz when Cal texts her back and starts eating. Reece starts on his food as well and it at least buys Gillian half a minute of peace before he asks her how she's settling in.
"Good," she smiles politely again. She's not sure what it is about Reece that makes her uncomfortable. Could be the stranger danger kind of thing that makes her feel paranoid. Or it could be because she gets a definite 'vibe' from him; an interested kind of vibe (which is even more unsettling, because he knows she has a complication. Maybe it's the complicated part that's throwing him off taking a hint that she's kind of, maybe, sort of taken. Or at least unavailable. She made it clear she was unavailable right?) She's saved from more conversation by another text from Cal. He asks her how her day is going (and she gets the impression that's not what he wanted to say, like he chickened out and went for mundane, safe). She texts him back, tells him it's good, she's looking forward to the weekend (and she gets a sudden flush of heat from dirty thoughts; even worse that she's sitting next to a complicated colleague) and she asks him what he's up to.
She puts her phone back in her lap, concentrates on her food. It's just as good the second day. She's hyper aware of Reece next to her, and the banter of the other staff in the background. She wonders what she can possibly bring up in conversation that's not going to lead to… well, too much conversation but he breaks the silence between them by asking if she has plans for the weekend. "No," she admits. "Not particularly." Again, dirty thoughts about Cal. "What about you?"
"Might come down for the baseball game on Saturday," he says. Gillian nods along; she has no intention of attending (she doesn't feel much school spirit). Cal texts to interrupt. He tells her he's started on dinner prep. Gillian, surprised, given the time of day, asks him what they're having. When she's finished texting, Gillian realises she's being rude. And her momma raised her right. She abandons the phone, looks over at Reece, tries.
"Do you have a partner Reece?"
"I date a bit," he replies with a smile.
Hm, on second thought, maybe not a great topic to start with.
Gillian nods. "Do you follow the baseball here?" She means at the school and Reece understands that (she has no idea who the Colorado baseball team is. Or if they have one. Or their football team, for that matter, though she knows they do have one. But, at least, if someone mentions it to her she can feign ignorance in an ok way because they've moved to Colorado just a few weeks ago. They're not passing themselves off as natives. That is at least not a lie).
"The school team? I kind of keep tabs on them. You're dealing with Jerome Manning right? He's a talented kid."
"So I've heard," Gillian notes cautiously. She's not supposed to discuss her clients with anyone else. Not even the VP or Jerome's own mother. She can only report on what she feels Jerome needs by way of what the school can provide.
"You've not seen him play?"
"No," she admits.
"You've got to get him back out on the field, Doc."
Gillian's startled by the use of the title, and the text that buzzes right next to her groin (not really helpful, or perhaps it could be, when she's been thinking rude thoughts about Cal).
"You are a doctor, right?" Reece presses casually. Casually to the untrained observer, but Gillian sees the slight narrowing of his eye, the press of the corner of his mouth, the tension held in his body while he waits for her answer. Somehow, it feels as if she denies it, he's going to call her out as a fake, and she doesn't get why, doesn't have time to even be working out why, so just answers truthfully. Reece gives a nod. "Then what brings you here to Boulder?"
Now, that is a good question. He just doesn't know how good. He thinks it's strange that she's over qualified for her job. He's got no idea how strange it all is.
Gillian gives a kind of nonchalant shrug and a smile. "I needed a change."
He doesn't know how life-threateningly desperately she needed that change.
"It just felt like the right thing to do," Gillian adds, going for warm, a little amusing, maybe a little self-depreciating. If she had any idea what Cal was going to do with his life from now on, she might have blamed it on him (has forgotten that he's already been telling people that they moved here for her work), so she can deflect. But as uncomfortable as she finds it talking about herself now, she does also realise that she can't stay silent about it forever; that also makes people suspicious.
Every time she tries to steer the conversation around to Reece, he steers it back. So instead of actually having an easy discussion, they almost end up in an interrogation (and for a moment, Gillian feels scared that maybe he's not who he says he is either, which she then dismisses as paranoia, because he can't possibly be a threat to her). They take turns asking questions until they're out of food and Reece excuses himself to go outside to have a smoke. It does let Gillian off the hook. She puts her used fork in the dishwasher and takes her plastic container back to her office. She's forgotten about Cal's text until she puts her phone down on the desk, and then reaches for it again with eagerness.
Surprise, is the message back from Cal. Gillian has to scroll up and read her last text to remind herself about what they were talking about. Dinner is going to be a surprise. Every meal has been a surprise. It was a surprise the first time he even cooked, especially with his broken arm. Gillian isn't sure what to say in response. She thinks maybe something pithy or flirty, but she can't think. The bell signals the end of the period and technically, she's back on the clock. So she tells Cal that and that she looks forward to seeing him, and then she puts her phone on silent and puts it back in her bag, just as Jerome Manning walks in. She's a little caught off guard but she remembers what Reece said to her before: get him back on the field. She thinks Jerome would be down with that idea too.
PJ
Cal's quite got the hang of this online shopping thing. Today he does food. He buys wine for dinner and steaks and then other general kind of stuff. It's kind of win-win. He's bored and needs something to do, and now they won't have to worry about it on the weekend; more quality time together (and Gillian won't drag him out of the house for it. Though she might attempt to drag him out of the house for other reasons. And he might let her). Today has actually been quite a good day. He's managed to keep himself entertained (dinner prep requires more time and effort, which means more occupation), and, more importantly, Gillian text him. Admittedly, the first few texts kind of put him in a funk, because he realised she had wanted to see him and he had overlooked that opportunity (which he can remedy on Monday; he's sure he can find an excuse to leave the house, even if it's merely to go down and have lunch with her. Even though the physical effort is a chore), and he was kicking himself about it, but then the texting became kind of nice, even though the conversation was nondescript. He was disappointed when she told him she had to go back to work.
He thinks it could be the start of something beautiful.
Cal knows Gillian. So he knows she likes her steak a strict medium. He's not a connoisseur or anything, and he doesn't know the oven well, but he hopes to have timed it right. The potatoes are finishing up in the oven with the steaks. There are green beans to chuck in the pot for a quick 'blanching' when Gillian gets home (Cal hopes she's on time, because there will be little leeway with the steaks) and he's made a red wine gravy sauce. Saying he made it might be a bit of a stretch, it's from a packet, but it did taste like shit until he added another glass of red wine and some black pepper.
Cal's busy with the tablet when Gillian gets home. There have been no more emails from Ria and its driving him nuts to be checking his email so often (he got a bit like that when texting Gillian earlier as well. Obsessively checking). He's trying to… feel another way, so he's limited the email checking to three (or four) times today. Instead, he's doing something different, drawing a picture actually. He calls a greeting to Gillian from the couch when he hears the front door. She greets him back and there's a pause before she comes into the room, coat and shoes already ditched. She leans over the back of the couch, draping her arms over his shoulders and chest, a loose embrace and plants a kiss against the side of his head.
"Oh so this is what you do all day huh?" She says.
"Hm," Cal answers absently, concentrating on his picture (while inside he feels warm and she smells good and he misses her when she's gone and it makes him all sappy and tingly).
"What are you doing?"
"Drawing a picture," Cal points out the obvious.
"For whom?" Gillian presses her head close to his as she watches over his shoulder.
"Uh," Cal looks up at the handle of the person he's locked in a battle of artistic and guessing skill with. "Someone who likes llamas, apparently."
Gillian gives a soft snort of amusement. "Is that Frodo?" She asks of his depiction.
"Yeah," Cal turns to her pleased. Gillian's close and when she smiles he can see all the delight in her eyes (and her freckles and the lines at the corners of her eyes and the flecks of black amongst the blue). She presses a kiss to his mouth this time and straightens up.
"Who knew you were so talented?" But it's not a question. She goes to leave the room.
"Wait," Cal calls to her, sending the picture for his opponent to guess (it's a new game he found today and it generates anonymous players for him, so it works). Gillian turns at the doorway, eyebrows raised. "Dinner? You want dinner?"
"Sure," Gillian smiles. "I'm just going to use the bathroom." She leaves and Cal struggles himself to his feet, swings his way into the kitchen and turns on the heat for the pot of water for the beans. He takes the steaks out of the oven, moving the beef to a wire rack so they can 'rest'. He's not been very good at the whole prodding the meat to see how well it's cooked. He can basically tell raw from overdone, so he hopes it's how Gillian likes it (he can at least deduce that they're not tough hunks of leather).
"Need me to do anything?" Gillian asks as she comes into the room. She's at his back quickly, fingers combing through the hair at the back of his head (feels gooooood). "You need a haircut," she notes absently.
Boom! That's what he's doing on Monday. And then he can swing by to see her. He'll bring lunch
"Set the table?" Cal requests. Gillian obliges while he finishes up their meal. He directs her to the wine he's already opened, and she teases him for starting before her. He gives her a smirk and responds that he has to have something to get through the day and while she smiles at his quip, there's an edge of seriousness in her eyes. Cal serves up and Gillian carries their plates through. She's complimenting him on the food before he's sat, before she's even tasted it. And then she says something that makes him feel warm again: "You do take care of me."
Cal has no idea what to say to that, so softly requests that she pour the wine. Gillian gives him a quick smile before reaching for the bottle and while Cal's rethinking the steak thing, because he's not overly adept with his knife skills and broken arm, Gillian raises her glass. Cal quickly puts his knife down and picks his own glass up by the stem (easier than spreading his fingers around the fat part of the vessel). "Cheers," Gillian simply says and Cal echoes it. They sip. Gillian compliments him on the wine.
"Not bad for a five dollar bottle," Cal jokes and gets the rewarding huff and eye roll that only makes him smile further (she hates it when he's cheap. He's mentioned he knows her?) "How was your day?" He asks and he's genuinely interested (and not feeling jealous that she gets to leave. Has he, gasp, gotten used to this already?)
"Good," Gillian responds warmly. She tells him a bit about it. The usual kinds of things, busy most of the day and a good session with Jerome (Cal likes very much that she's confided in him a little bit. No proper details; that would be unprofessional and Gillian is anything but. There is sharing). Like usual, she asks him what he got up to and he confesses to grocery shopping online and then he remembers his watch and admits to that too. Gillian asks him about it, what it looks like and where he got it from. Cal's not sure, but he thinks maybe, on some level, he was half expecting disapproval (and then he figures it's just that the last time he was unemployed and sitting around the house all day he was with a different woman and that woman was not nearly as half laid back as Gillian is).
Gillian has to cut Cal's steak for him. Which doesn't even bother him. It's kind of cute, actually, and he gets what Gillian means by being taken care of. Of course, she does tease him about it, threatens to remove his utensils altogether if he can't handle them (and, rather flirtily, offers to spoon feed him as well, and he thinks he should have gotten ice cream, because that could have been a lot of fun. And he thinks, that even though he's home all day with his thoughts, that he doesn't really do a lot of thinking. Certainly not thinking things through properly. What a waste of his time).
After Gillian finishes eating, she sits with him while he works his way one handed through his food, and sips wine. He offers her another glass but she only pours herself another half. She asks him if he wants to do anything on the weekend but apart from giving her a lewd grin (which only makes her smile) he just shrugs. Seeing as it might be a hint, he asks her if she wanted to do something but she says no. They're silent for a few moments and it's not awkward. Cal can feel Gillian's eyes on him a lot and he kind of likes it. When he looks over at her she smiles and finally she gets up to clear her plate and Cal thinks she might just like being around him (and that feels pretty good). She comes back almost straight away and takes her seat again, wine glass in hand.
"Last night," she starts. "You wanted to talk to me about something?"
Cal had almost forgotten all about that, and now that the subject has been brought up he feels a prickly nervous kind of warmth. "Oh," he says and chews to buy himself some time. Gillian sips her wine and waits patiently. "It doesn't matter," Cal tries (because he's chicken).
"Tell me," Gillian says lightly. She's not intense about it, but Cal gets the impression she will not let it go even at his most stubborn.
Cal takes a drink of his wine and swallows down his steak and looks over at her again. She's watching him neutrally, just waiting on him (he supposes she's done a lot of that in their years together). "I'm bored Gill."
There's a flash of surprise and she straightens up in her chair, affronted.
"Not right now," Cal backtracks (didn't plan that one well…). "I mean, being at home all day by myself. It's driving me nuts. I need something to do."
Gillian's surprise goes to a slight frown, but she's not deriding him, she's mulling over what he's said. "Something to do?" She repeats.
Cal realises it's a bit of an odd… request (except it's not a request. More like a cry for help). "Not that I'm saying you have to entertain me," he adds. "Just more like, I need something to do. I've been stalking liars for so long I don't know what else to do with my time."
Suddenly, it feels like a huge admission. A massive baring of his soul.
"Just wondered if you'd have any ideas," he mumbles and takes the last bite of potato.
Gillian sits quietly and when Cal glances up she's looking at the centre of the table thoughtfully. He loves the way she reacts to the things he tells her. He thinks he should tell her more things (like about emailing the Group – but not yet, not yet). "I'm not sure I can think of anything right now," she speaks softly and meets his eye. "Why don't we think about it for a few days?"
"All right," Cal agrees, because what else is he going to do?
"You could call the marshals on Monday. They might be able to find some work for you. A job that… will let you sit at a desk," she adds with a slight smile.
Cal thinks that also sounds hideously boring (what the fuck is he going to do behind a desk? Answer telephones?), but because Gillian's trying, he says he will. She promises him that they'll work on it (and that is at least something) and then gets up to do the dishes. With the table and kitchen cleared up (Cal has to admit, he likes that Gillian gets on it right away. Not to say that he thinks it's her job, he's just not quite realised how nice it is not to have to worry about that kind of thing the next day; everything feels complete by the time he goes to bed) they watch television for a while, the news, some comedy Gillian puts on, a current affairs show. And then Gillian turns the TV off and Cal figures she's calling bed time already (even though it's actually still quite early even by her standards).
"Want to go to bed?" Gillian asks and Cal's already reaching for his crutches, but something in her voice makes him turn back. And there's that look on her face. She leans in close to him and he angles his mouth to meet hers. Her kiss is hot and passionate and it makes him feel lightheaded. Her hands are firm against his body and under his clothes and she means business (he can barely manage to stroke at her thigh, and not because he's sitting at a weird angle and he's still unsure with his left hand, but because he can't think clearly enough to coordinate the rest of him).
"Yes bed," Cal murmurs against her mouth and she gives a hum. She's got him worked up so easily it seems unfair.
It's the oddest thing, Cal being on crutches. They can't hold hands as they head to the bedroom, cuddle, kiss their way down the hall, any of that kind of stuff. They literally have to pick themselves up and walk to the bedroom and then sort of awkwardly start again. Gillian though, she's wonderful. She makes him stand by the bed and holds on to him while she kisses him slowly. At first, it's just nice to be kissed. Then she carefully takes his shirt off, each arm at a time so he doesn't lose his balance and kisses him some more. She spreads those kisses down his neck to his chest and Cal feels the tension starting to build in him again. On the couch, it was hot and heavy and quick. Now in the bedroom it's all warm and intimate and slow.
She doesn't get down on her knees in front of him, for which Cal is grateful (don't get him wrong, it's not that he didn't totally love the last blow job, it's just that, until he can reciprocate properly, he'd rather not be indebted), but she does put her hands in his pants and that's almost just as good (he really, really loved the blow job. It was seriously, seriously amazing. Actually now that he's thinking about it he might not mind too much if Gillian does get on her knees). Gillian's totally in control of everything, from when he takes his clothes off, to directing him to take some of hers off, to the bit where they get into bed, the condom bit (he'll be glad when that's done with), him touching her (when, where, how much, how fast, for how long); all of it timed brilliantly so that it's smooth, so that it's quietly intimate and amazing and… well… probably the closest they've gotten to making love so far. Even with his broken arm and leg. And Cal thinks he might not have been able to do it any better, to be honest.
Gillian is brilliant.
At everything apparently.
PJ
Gillian wakes in a slow lifting of the dreamy hazy state to lie in a contented comfortable warmth; conscious, but happily with her eyes still glued shut and the utter bliss of a relaxed body in the perfect position against mattress and pillow. The blanket is to her chin and she can feel the press of Cal's arm against her thigh. She's naked and she knows he's naked and with remembering last night (which was freaking amazing. Cal's very good at following instructions and he's even better when he starts anticipating what she wants before she has to voice it) it's a pretty nice way to start the weekend.
After replaying last night in her head a few times Gillian feels the tingle of needing the bathroom. She wonders what the time is (and hopes to god it is not before she normally wakes up during the week). Beside her, Cal sleeps on and for a while listening to the inconsistent rhythm of his breathing distracts her from the fact that she needs to get up. Eventually, she can't ignore it and reluctantly turns over. She tracks to the bathroom in the dark but puts the light on to shower. The brightness cuts through her retinas harshly and she hopes again that she's managed to sleep in, otherwise she might have to climb back into bed and try to go back to sleep.
Gillian's gotten used to having the morning to herself, the quietness of the house leaving her with her thoughts. She's thinking about last night again but in different ways. It feels like almost every day with Cal is a step forward; they're getting used to being with each other (it maybe feels a bit like falling in lll… like. Liking each other in new ways). And this last week in particular has been great because it's been all forward momentum and none of those disheartening backwards steps. Even though Cal confessed to her that he's starting to go stir crazy with the same four walls, he hasn't been taking the frustration out on her. And maybe, admittedly, because of that, Gillian's been neglectful. She's been caught up with work and spent less time thinking about how Cal is doing. He asked for help though, which, in her recollection, happens less often than a blue moon, so she's definitely going to work on the trust he's shown her and actually try to help him in some way.
After showering Gillian checks the time. She did sleep in! And even though it's still dark it's starting to turn into a reasonable hour. She thinks about waking Cal. She thinks about crawling back into bed with him and waking him. But she doesn't want to get back between sheets that need changing. Instead, she goes upstairs to dress. She makes herself coffee and breakfast, watches the way the sun starts to creep into the world, bringing it to life. She thinks driving up the Flatirons to watch the sun rising over the city would be amazing (but can't imagine waking Cal that early to go with her. Of course, she could go by herself).
While she's up there, Gillian tidies up, gives the bathroom a quick clean and swaps out the old towels for new ones. She empties the hamper and brings all the dirty laundry downstairs with her. She puts it in the machine and sets it to go. Then she goes to the downstairs bathroom and gathers up the towels from there. When she goes to the bedroom to pick up the clothes off the floor, she finds the bed empty and Cal gone. A thrill goes through her; he's awake!
She dumps more dirty laundry on the floor by the machine and goes to find him. Actually, she just calls out and follows his response to the living room. He's on the couch with a coffee cup, his hair dishevelled (sexy) and his eyes still sleepy. "Good morning," Gillian greets him.
"Morning luv," he responds leaning back against the back of the couch, moving his arm to lay along the top of the furniture.
Gillian takes the invitation and sits against him, her legs tucked up under her so she can give him a kiss and then hug him and rest her head on his shoulder for a moment. It's nice. It's so nice. She loves being with him like this.
"Sleep all right?" Cal asks.
"Yes," Gillian smiles. "Did you?"
"Uh huh," he says before taking a sip of his coffee.
"Have you had breakfast?"
"Not yet," Cal's voice is a warm rumble in his throat. Gillian runs her fingers down his ribs through his shirt. It's funny to be able to feel him. Yeah, she's touched him before, before all this, but she's spent more time thinking about it, and now she can. And it's funny how far or how much her impressions of him match up to reality. She knew he was a slight guy, but she didn't know she could feel his ribs through his clothes when he sits like this. And now she knows. She knows because she's sitting here with him, like this.
"How long have you been up?"
"Not that long."
"A few hours then?"
"Something like that."
Cal gives a snort or a huff. "You should learn to sleep in."
"I did," Gillian tells him.
"No post coital morning cuddle," Cal mumbles (or at least, that's what Gillian thinks he mumbles, because he really garbles the words, like he doesn't even really want to say them even though they're coming out of his mouth).
She pulls back to look at him. "Maybe you should wake up earlier."
Cal smirks to that. "Someone exhausted me last night. Needed all the rest I could get."
Gillian smirks right on back. "I didn't hear you complaining last night. You should have told me you needed some time out to have a rest."
Cal doesn't laugh, but his smirk turns into a highly amused grin that he cannot contain and then he chuckles. "Not complaining at all about last night," he says. "Was incredible." And it feels like it's all going to burst out of his chest (mostly, it's that he dared to confess).
"It was," Gillian agrees. "Really amazing." She gives him another kiss, this time letting it linger a little. "What do you want for breakfast?" She asks as she climbs off the couch.
"Bacon, eggs, beans, toast, roast tomato, hash browns, butter and sausage," Cal tells her as she's leaving the room.
"Jam?" She calls from the hallway in response.
"Please," Cal yells back by the time she reaches the kitchen.
Yep, it's a good start to the weekend. Incredible sex on Friday night (sure to be repeated at some point over the next few days), and yes, he missed getting to wake up with her that morning, but she's flirty anyway and now she's making him breakfast. Best jam on toast he's had in a while (she knows him so well, or at least aspects of him, that she butters the bread all the way to the edges of the crust like he likes. He doesn't even know where or when she would have noticed that. Perhaps she notices more than he realises. Which could be scary, if he lets it bother him).
So Cal sits and drinks his coffee and eats his toast while Gillian does something in the bedroom (which he finds out later is changing the sheets) and leaves him alone with his thoughts. During the week, when she's at work, he notices how empty the house feels, even knowing Gillian is just in the other room makes all the difference to the house feeling a bit like a home (not that he's settling, no, he's not; he still wants for them to go home to DC). Cal shifts to lie the full length of the couch, his broken leg resting up on the arm at the other end. He gives his toes a wiggle, checks they're still all right in there and reaches for the tablet on the coffee table. He brings it to life, checks his mail (nothing, gah), checks that drawing game (there's a picture for him to guess).
He hears Gillian enter the room behind him as he watches the picture unfold before him on the screen. "It's a ring," Gillian tells him.
"Spoiler."
"You looked like you were struggling," she tells him. She sits across his hips. Cal types in the word, and ta da, she's right. He blanks the screen and drops the tablet. "Cal, last night?" Gillian starts.
He gets serious, pushes his head back into the furniture to see her better. He doesn't get a chance to ask her 'what about last night?' (And he's suddenly a little nervous she's going to... complain or mention they never do some aspect of it again. Or something maybe not good, but he can't think what).
"Will you...?" She hesitates and it's cute. Very cute. Again, Cal prepares to use his words to encourage her query when she goes on, her voice soft but intimate (which makes it draw his attention completely). "Will you do it again? But use your mouth this time?"
It takes a second for the words to get through and then his face is blooming into an arrogant smile (for a micro-second it's pleased. Then it becomes a smirk). Gillian smiles back, but a little more bashful, coy, flirty. "Yeah go on," he tells her (ok, he really is pleased. Thrilled! Excited, even.) Just wait until she sees (feels) what he can do with his mouth. Gillian grips at his shoulder as she starts to grin (she looks just as pleased as he does). "But you have to help me out," Cal goes on. There's a flicker in her eyes that says she doesn't understand what he means. "You'll have to," he gestures to his face. She has to sit on him. He can't get on the floor; he's not good at physical manoeuvring at the moment.
Gillian gives another slightly embarrassed but also amused expression. "Ok," she presses a hard kiss against his mouth (even though it's slightly open) and climbs off him. She undoes her jeans and starts to shimmy out of them. Cal lifts his broken leg (which doesn't seem so heavy anymore, especially with the fibreglass) and shifts further down the couch so his head is lying flat on the cushion he's meant to be sitting on (which means his broken leg is at a fricking awkward angle half hanging over the edge of the arm of the couch, but he's willing to let that go in this situation). He settles back and a naked-from-the-lower-half-down Gillian settles back over him.
It's kind of self-conscious now, for both of them, which means there's no other way around it but to get on with it (unless they stop altogether). Cal encourages Gillian closer to his mouth with his hands on her thighs, so he doesn't have to strain his neck to reach (he won't be able to keep that up for long) and as she nudges forward she braces against the arm of the couch Cal's head has just vacated.
She's already a little turned on, which is great for Cal (and exciting!) and makes him wonder what she was thinking about while she was doing the laundry. He feels himself getting turned on as he takes his first taste of her. Gillian shivers and gives a tight moan and her hand is there, next to his ear, like she wants to touch herself as well. But her thighs squeeze in and there is no room; Cal wouldn't let her anyway. She asked him to do this and so he is; he's going to make her feel incredible, he's going to show her just how good at this he is (and in the sack, actually, by the way if and when he's given half the chance to take the lead and show her), he's going to have her coming back for more.
After exploring (and tasting and getting overexcited, and eager and wanting to be everywhere and do everything) around for a few moments, Cal settles into a rhythm (with all the sweet spots tentatively found and memorised) and so does Gillian with her hips. It's a light grinding against his mouth and chin and nose and he doesn't mind it. It is, at least, an indication that she's enjoying it, because he can't see her face (which is a bit of a shame). She also squeezes with her thighs and is groaning and moaning and huffing (audible response is very encouraging) and even though Cal can't see it, her face is showing nothing but ecstasy. But then it freezes. And Gillian shies away from Cal in an awkward jerk, "Emily!"
Cal grabs at her too late, looking up, utterly bewildered. What did he do? She's moving off him, hopping on one foot as she makes contact with carpet and tries to disentangle herself from him. "Where you going?" He utters quickly, pushing himself up on his elbows. He thought that was going quite well. He must have seriously lost his ability to read her (or totally missed something).
"Emily's here," Gillian strangles out, reaching for her clothes to quickly redress. There's a knock at the door.
Cal's heart goes very still.
Oh.
Shit.
He struggles himself to sit, feels himself going rapidly soft again, while Gillian scrambles crazily back into her clothes (she's quick with underwear, it's the jeans that catch her up) even as she's taking a few steps towards the front door. "Wipe your face," Gillian hisses at him as she finally gets her second leg into the denim and jumps to tug them up to her hips. Cal absently reaches his left hand to oblige (but then doesn't know what to do with it and has to wipe it on the inside of his shirt and hope it doesn't soak through and make a big mess). Gillian's at the door, pulling it open and smoothing down her hair, a smile on her face. Cal hears the two women greet each other and as he swivels around to get to his feet (foot). No shit, it's his daughter.
As he's standing and tucking his crutches under his arms he sees them have a brief hug. Gillian closes the door as Emily spots him, a huge grin on her face, and comes towards him.
But over his daughter's shoulder, Cal can see Gillian glaring at him.