It's hot in California. Well, it is spring, so it's pretty warm (humid, the air thick and clingy and making everything worse) and Cal's not used to this kind of warmth. As he walks down the street, he feels flushed and damp with sweat (to be fair, he's just finishing up five kilometres of power-strolling) and he feels kind of gross really; he wants a shower. He turns the corner, sidesteps a woman with baby and a cigarette (look how deftly he can move now!) and heads on down the block to the motel. He fishes the key out of his pocket as he walks into the drive, anticipation of cold water itching at the wariness. His legs are aching, his right leg more than the other (the left one is a worked muscle thing, the right one is the healing of his bone). He finds himself slowing down even as his room approaches, so it seems longer and more torturous to get there; he's wary. He pops open the door and has to step over mail shoved under the door onto the carpet. He stoops to pick it up, then let's the door swing closed. With mail and keys still in hand, he goes around the room and opens every window, hoping for a breeze that doesn't exist. He switches on the fan by the TV (no air-conditioning here; seems a cruel lack in the desert) and finally throws himself backwards onto the double bed.
The cooler air tickles over his knees (yep, he's wearing shorts) in a kind of unpleasant way really, considering they're sweaty. He pulls himself to sit with his abdominal muscles only (keys in one hand and mail in the other). He can use his broken wrist now, almost like normal, but he's still a bit wary of too much work, too much pressure; besides, he doesn't want to touch his sweaty self right now, or have anything else against his skin either. He tosses the room key to the Formica table and puts the mail down on the mattress next to his thigh. He peels his t-shirt off and tosses it to the floor by the bathroom. The fan blows cool air right against his bare chest now; much better. He picks up the mail again. There's fliers (he doesn't know why the motel insists on giving them to him), the bill from the motel for this month, and a large manila envelope. He ditches the other mail and studies the envelope closer. It's addressed to him with a label printed from a computer (can't guess the sender from handwriting then). He flips the envelope over. The return address is a business stamp. And that stamp is from his lawyer.
PJ
It's warm in DC and Gillian's been sitting out the back in the sun, reading with iced tea and a big straw hat. It's Wednesday, so it's quiet in her neighbourhood, and what brings her inside is a knock at the door (a hard pounding, actually; they might have knocked more than once); she's curious about who it could be. Not a lot of people come knocking on her door these days (but notice she didn't have a panicked response to the knock? She's done some work on it); she's had a lot of time to… relax and find herself once more (reassess her life and learn to trust again). It's not a social piranha kind of thing, it's just that, everyone she knows is employed, so they're otherwise occupied (but maybe it also is a little bit that it's weird, with the witness protection thing and court case; people don't really know what to say to her, though she can tell they're intensely curious. What would have been great, was if she had her partner in crime with her when she had to face the music. But after he testified she didn't see him and then after the guilty verdict was given, and the marshal's finally released them back into the world (it was their choice whether they went back to their old lives or started over with new ones), he did a runner. She hasn't seen or heard from him since. And while she's been assured by the private investigator she eventually had to hire to find him, that he's not dead, that doesn't make her feel any better about what is, essentially, acute rejection). There's another knock just as she's approaching the door and she twists the lock without hesitation (without even having to check who it is first) and pulls it towards her but her heart immediately thunders.
"Cal!"
He grins at her. That self-confident 'ta da!' (I'm back!) grin that she kind of can't resist (but also dislikes). She steps right back to let him in and reaches out a hand to his shoulder to guide him, and he comes towards her. As he brushes past (a little too closely, considering she gave him a lot of room to get by) she's overwhelmed for a moment by the rugged scent of him. She's distracted for a second, her heart still pounding, but then she pushes the door shut with one hand and tightens her grip on his shoulder with the other (like now that she has him in her possession she doesn't want to let go; he might disappear on her again). Despite the anger she feels towards him (sometimes), she pulls him into a hug, standing on her tiptoes in her bare feet so she can tuck her chin over his shoulder, shifting the hand that was there a moment ago so it wraps around the back of his neck (clinging). A tight, full body hug; she squeezes him, overcome with seeing him again (because he's been gone for… a freaking long time and the last time she saw him was that night in the hotel. And despite the fact that he can be really, really lousy sometimes, she still cares about him; and that overpowers the anger). Cal tightens his arms around her back, taking note of all the delicious ways she's pressed against him (and how nice she smells). And then he realises how tightly she's holding him and when he tries to pull away to end the hug, she holds on even tighter, like she's afraid he's going to pry her loose (reject her). He lets her stay against him, drops his chin to her shoulder, holds on (mmm her hair smells really nice), and waits for her cue (he'll happily hold her until she pushes him away).
After a long minute, Gillian recognises herself just how long she's been holding on (and how potentially awkward it could be) and pulls back, tucking hair behind her ear so she can duck her face and hide a little. The hug was awkward, sure, but she gets over it quickly; she's suddenly angry again (typical pattern for them. As soon as she realises he's not actually seriously hurt, her frustration rears). She looks up and meets his eye (he kind of looks happy) and then she shoves him lightly (more of a tap against his shoulder; he barely moves from the force. And he still looks pleased with himself. Annoying really). "Where have you been?" She demands.
Cal gives a slight pout. "California."
"California?" Gillian repeats with uncertainty. "I called Emily looking for you…"
Cal's surprised and not really surprised (of course he figured Gillian would look for him, and it makes sense that she would call his daughter, but it's still a surprise to hear it, that his suspicions are true). ). "Em didn't know I was there." (But no, he couldn't go a month without talking to his daughter. He's been texting her. She didn't mention Gillian called her. He wonders why that was? He's going to have to ask her next time they talk. As it turns out, when Gillian called Emily, she had just dropped Cal at the airport. So she told the older woman he was on his way home, and figured they had caught up a few hours later.)
Gillian frowns at him.
"She dropped me at the airport," Cal goes on. "And I just… couldn't get on the plane."
"So you just stayed?"
"I stayed," Cal nods. "I found a motel." (As if that titbit of information is going to clarify it all.)
"Are you ok?"
"Yes, course," Cal nods again.
"You couldn't call me?" Her next question is more curious than fuming.
"I'm sorry," Cal says immediately, but he means it, and he can see the surprise on Gillian's face at the simple apology (yeah, he's not given too many of them over the years). He can see that it disarms her. Gillian studies him, the crease of the frown still there. Cal wonders how she'll take the explanation he's given (or lack thereof) but she doesn't push and he finds it a little disappointing (what if she doesn't care to ask?). They're silent for a moment and Cal's working up the courage to keep the conversation going (he hasn't realised before how much he relies on Gillian to ask the questions and push them forward). "I needed to think."
"Think?" Gillian repeats.
"Think," Cal echoes with a nod of confirmation. (He is a cowardly lion. He needs them to warm up before he launches into his justifications and insights and talks her into giving him a second chance).
"Well, you look ok," she says tentatively, the frown smoothing out. He does though. He's in shorts and a t-shirt; casual, but he looks slightly tanned and relaxed. Actually, more relaxed than she's probably ever seen him.
Cal feels his stomach do something strange. "So do you," he says softly, and takes that as a good sign. He's gone AWOL and he knows he has to do some repairing (more repairing. A lot of repairing really) but at least she hasn't slammed the door in his face, and at least she's still talking to him.
Gillian hesitates on the carpet by the door. "Do you want something to drink?" She offers to break the growing tension (the way Cal is looking at her, in that attentive interested way, it makes her want to kiss him. And she doesn't want to fall into that; she's mad at him. She thinks. No, she is, it's just that… he confuses her).
"Sure," Cal agrees.
They go to the kitchen. Cal watches Gillian's ass as they go (seriously sexy. And those are rather short shorts) and thinks that really, this isn't going so bad (considering she had every right to knee him in the balls). As Gillian walks off, she starts to wonder what Cal's doing there, what he wants from her, what she should say or ask or do, and why he's being different (he seems different. It might just be the relaxed thing, but the energy around him feels… different). It unsettles her because she doesn't know what to expect. When she doesn't know what to expect, she feels closed off and defensive (and her mind races with trying to figure it all out before she's made to look a fool).
"Tea?" Gillian says over her shoulder, catches Cal's eyes lowered and feels heat in her cheeks; he's checking out her ass (which she likes, and simultaneously feels uncomfortable with. He confuses her…).
"Great," Cal responds. He can't quite bring himself to feel bad for being busted looking at her ass, because he wants her to know he's interested (but he's not sure that he can say that aloud. Just yet. It depends how the rest of the conversation goes). In the kitchen, he takes up a perch right next to where Gillian's working, so that as she moves around preparing cups and teabags and hot water, she has to brush or lean into him. At one point, she has to ask him to move, so she can get spoons from the drawer, so he does so in a minimalistic way. She has to reach right into him, their arms brushing and the electricity flying. Cal's pleased with that; their chemistry has always been amazing and he's glad to see it's not gone (he'll need it to win her over). But it flusters Gillian. It overwhelms her so that they stand staring at each other for a long moment and she fights the urge to kiss him (her heart pounds like crazy). And then the spell wears off, and she can think clearly again, so she puts distance between them. She doesn't see the disappointment in Cal when she does that, because she's more worried about how he makes her feel: out of control. She wants him, badly (because she's missed him badly), but that scares her, because she doesn't know what to expect when it comes to him.
"Why did you come here?" Gillian finally works up the courage to ask, leaning against the bench, picking at a fingernail, avoiding his eye.
"I got the papers."
Gillian's head shoots up and she looks him right in the eye. "Oh," she says and her face is apologetic. "I can explain."
Cal raises a hand to stop her. "There's no need. I signed them already."
"You signed them?" Gillian says, her tone edging into incredulous.
Cal nods. "Came back to deliver them." (It's a weak excuse to come back, but it also felt like maybe it was the nudge he needed to face… his life again).
Gillian's expression falls a little. "You could have mailed them," and her tone is hard.
Yep, Cal knows. His absence was felt and his lack of communication stung. (He kind of knew it would. Well, of course he knew it would. But that still couldn't compel him to pick up the phone, though he did try).
Gillian's eyes narrow slightly. "I didn't want it to happen like that." Her tone is still edgy, but she's working on contrite (and he can see guilt on her features too).
"I get it," Cal tells her, serene, when she thought he would be angry. "I assume you did what you had to do."
"I had to pay off the investors, the bank. We couldn't…"
Cal nods. "I can imagine it'd be too hard to keep the Group going with our extended absences. By the time you got to it, it was a complete mess?"
Gillian twists her lips, which is her way of agreeing, without wanting to. There's more to the story.
"It came out even then?" Cal prompts when Gillian remains silent.
"Well. I made sure everyone got a good bonus."
Cal smiles. Of course she did.
"You didn't read the papers?" Gillian frowns at him, confused.
"I didn't need to. I trust you," Cal tells her. Gillian stares at him for a second. "I figure you made the right decisions, did what needed to be done." He gives a shrug – what else is there to say?
Gillian shifts her weight and doesn't answer, which is her way of saying 'yes'. But for some reason she doesn't want to admit it. She's not showing shame, but perhaps she's not happy? "I made sure you got something too," she mumbles.
Cal hasn't checked his bank account in a while, but he figures she worked a miracle. "Thank you," he says and it draws Gillian's eyes back to his. "I'm sorry to leave it to you to sort out." (He is though. He didn't really think of that when he hid out in LA for over a month. He didn't think about much but himself, to be honest. Sometimes it's needed). Her eyes go a little wider with surprise. Fair enough. He's acting out of character.
"I have something I should tell you," Gillian says as she finishes working (and that gives her a good excuse to not be able to meet his eye). Cal seems content with the silence (he obviously doesn't want to elaborate on the last month), but Gillian has things she needs to talk about. He may have taken off for a month, but her life went on. Things happened. Things she would rather tell him, than have him find out from someone else (and take the wrong way, which will only add more tension to their cauldron, and a part of her wonders why she is still trying to manage him when she doesn't have to anymore. So what if he gets offended and does something stupid? He's not her responsibility anymore. He's not her business partner. She doesn't need him. Wanting him might be a different story though). She plunges on. "I've been… working with Radar."
The smile drops from Cal's face, "You've joined the Radar Group?"
"No," Gillian says firmly and now she can look him in the eye. "It was just a few cases; consultancy work."
"And how was it?" He asks with a hint of antagonism.
Gillian gives a pout of her mouth and a half shrug. It was all right. Actually, it was kind of nice to be doted on a bit, and be so obviously appreciated, but after a few days, laying it on thick like that wore thin.
Cal doesn't look happy, but he's not losing it. "He didn't offer you a job?" He sounds a little incredulous.
Gillian hesitates, "Well he did."
"You should take it," Cal says, at the same time Gillian adds, "I turned it down."
Cal blinks at her. "You did?"
"I don't want to work with Radar," Gillian says indignantly.
"I bet it was good money."
"It was."
"And you turned it down?"
"Do you want me to work with him?"
"No," Cal scoffs. She can see something in his eyes, something that might be pride, or pleasure. "What are you planning on doing next?" He asks and even though Gillian strongly suspects he means with her life, she also can't help but think about this literal moment, about them.
Gillian shrugs. "I don't know yet." And that's true for both of the above.
"Hm," Cal says. He doesn't elaborate and it's on the tip of Gillian's tongue to ask him if he wants to start over (in business, that is). But the sudden thought doesn't slip out of her mouth. While her heart says 'this could be a good idea', her brain is more rational and stops her. Aside from the fact that it was a struggle being in business last time (although, now, with hindsight, she would do some things differently and probably better), there's also the bit about being in business with Cal which complicates the matter further. It's not simple working with Cal. And while she loved it in the beginning… The last few months have reiterated certain things for her, and one of them is that Cal is… he's just not easy to work (be) with. Nothing about this is clear cut anymore.
"What are you going to do next?" Gillian asks him (because she gets the impression he has a plan). But he merely looks thoughtful, and the air thickens around them with renewed tension and silence. The water boils and Gillian goes to reach for the fridge door to get milk. Cal does the same thing at the same time, thinking he'll help. He ends up grabbing her hand as her fingers close around the door handle. She stops and they stand there, essentially holding hands. Cal looks over at Gillian, his heart beating faster, and notices her mouth had dropped open slightly and she's breathing quickly. Her eyes lift to his and he can see that they're dark and full of lust. He licks his lips, the anticipation rife, and tries to decide if he should kiss her now, or maybe wait a bit longer? (Let her see his serious intentions.) Never mind. Gillian kisses him. She can't stand the tension (even though Cal seems so very calm about it all) and really just… she just really wants him (and she misses him. They were interrupted last time. Not just the sex part, they were interrupted in general. After Gillian testified she didn't see much of Cal, and if she did, it didn't work out that they were left alone. Cal didn't sneak into her hotel room again. And then as soon as the verdict was out and he basically disappeared on her. Which reminds her, she's still mad at him about that. But after this…)
Gillian turns over the hand he's holding, so they're palm to palm, and she can hold on to him. Her other hand (her left hand) she slides over his shoulder, so she can hold on to him there too (tightly). Cal pushes his body against hers, presses her back against the edge of the bench she was leaning on a moment ago. She breaks from his mouth to protest and shift her back from the corner of the bench, while he mumbles a quick apology, and then they're mouths are pressed together again. Gillian slides her tongue against his lips and he quickly lets her in, bathes in the warmth of her mouth. Gillian's heart beats wilder and her cheeks flush. The heat coming off Cal's body warms her through and she realises that even though he seems so collected on the outside, it may just be an act; he kisses her with the same amount of desperation she feeds him. They push and pull against each other, wanting to get close, finding a rhythm, touching and exploring (familiarising). Tea completely forgotten, Gillian starts guiding Cal to her bedroom. His hands make their way under her shirt and it's an odd combination of fluency but also novelty; he hasn't been so dexterous with both hands before. And Gillian's not sure if it's because he doesn't have a cast anymore (well, casts), or whether he's just gotten supremely confident, but he does very little wrong either. When she starts to feel like this is being rushed, Cal slows down the pace a notch. When she feels like she might want more attention somewhere else, he seems to pick up on it (or there's amazing coincidence) without her having to say.
Cal undresses all of her carefully, (while she kind of tugs his clothes off him, as much as he'll let her; he seems intent on taking charge of this situation), alighting her skin in excruciating ways. He guides her to the bed, makes her lie back while he gets to his knees on the floor. Holy mother she has waited so long for this. He's kind of polite and delicate to start, but when she urges him on he finds that confidence again (he has, after all, at least started this before. He totally finishes it this time too); explores and anticipates. Damn he's good. It makes her want him inside her badly and when she encourages him up her body, she can feel him hard against her, making her want him so desperately more. She makes it known and the responding growl tingles against her throat. He makes love to her (a slight pause for a breathy rushed conversation about protection. She tells him if he doesn't need to then he doesn't have to and so they don't and she trusts him) and it completely blows her mind. It may very well be the best she's ever had and it might almost make up for the false starts several months ago (although, imagine how incredible it all would have been if it had been like this from the start?) Afterwards, Cal holds her so tightly she has to actually force him back so she's not completely smothered. He kisses her repeatedly, like she's precious and he never wants to let her go (he doesn't) and Gillian gives in to that feeling in her heart that she had been trying to deny since she opened her front door: it feels good to be with him. Safe and special and like it is right. There are dangerous thoughts lurking in the back of her head (the L word, but she doesn't love him. She… it wouldn't be logical. They've almost been a disaster; even now they're not on solid ground. How could she fall in love with him?) but she feels so damn content. "That was amazing," she murmurs against his skin, half lying on him (feeling listless and relaxed), her cheek resting against his collar bone, still feeling the increased buzz of her heart rate.
Cal chuckles lightly. "It really was." He kisses her hair again and lowers his voice so it's almost a whisper (and it sends a shiver through Gillian), "This is more like how I imagined we would have done it the first time."
It's not that romantic of a statement (well, maybe it is) but there's so much information in it to tease out and wonder about. Some things Gillian already knows (the bit about him not being happy with their first attempts at sex) but there's new things in there, things that reveal how Cal thinks about them, as a them: he's imagined them having sex before (as in, before they did actually have sex). Which means he's, well, thought about them having sex, but more importantly, was it a fantasy for him, a physical thing? Or was he (and this is kind of harder to contemplate) thinking about a relationship-type scenario? Gillian 'hmms' her agreement (she doesn't disagree) but she doesn't know what to say next. The making love thing is different for them. It has, until now, very much felt just like a physical thing between them. She's attracted to him, can't deny that. And she knows Cal has been interested in her (there was a lot of flirting for quite a while). But then there's the things he said at the courthouse (the 'what's next?') that makes her feel like maybe he wants more (she was convinced he did want more. Until he disappeared for over a month and didn't contact her at all). He's confusing.
She wants to tell him off. She wants to demand answers from him. She wants explanations and all of that. But she feels sleepy. And it's so warm against Cal, so… comfortable and content and relaxing in his arms. If it had been like this their first time, this whole thing might have turned out so differently. This doesn't seem like the right time to bring up how much of an ass he can be.
Cal presses his nose into her hair once more. "I'm scared I'm going to break your heart," he murmurs.
"Me too," Gillian responds softly, and she opens her eyes and looks across the room to the dresser where she used to have a picture of her and Alec, and then she closes her eyes again, because she doesn't want to think about heartache in this moment.
Cal's heart pounds. He didn't quite expect himself to say it aloud (and he probably didn't expect her to agree, even if he did actually expect her to agree); he thought she might have already fallen asleep. He's getting braver. He can't quite tell when Gillian actually does fall asleep (she's so languid against him and he doesn't let her go an inch), but he figures she has because she remains quiet and when he shifts in little increments (his bum gets sore resting in one spot) she doesn't respond or counteract. This is nice, laying here with her. This is exactly what he has been looking for. This whole scenario (minus the awkwardness of him being gone for so long and the aftermath of the witness protection thing. That bit is not what he was looking for at all), the love making and the cuddling afterwards and those warm gooey feelings; this is what he wanted for them right from the start. In his perfect world (the world where he worked up the courage to ask her out one night, instead of waiting for her to be damaged by a bomb blast and crawl into his bed seeking comfort), this would have happened differently. But anyway, they're here now and yes, he has a bit more explaining to do, but it feels like this could be the re-start they need (a do-over). But as Cal's thinking over the words he wants to say to her when she wakes up again, he falls asleep himself. And that means he runs the risk of her escaping from bed before he can stop her (which means she can put space back between them, and it will be harder than it already is to tear down her walls. She's built some good ones recently. With the materials he's given her).
PJ
Cal startles himself awake. There's that confusion about where he is (because he's not at home and he's not even in the motel) but he feels the dead weight of Gillian laying all over his arm (a leg hooked into his too, and breasts pressed against his skin) and he remembers quickly, and happily (hah! She didn't wake up before him and sneak out). He holds her a little tighter (ok, he gives her quite a squeeze) and she stirs. She makes a noise in her throat but doesn't wake (even though Cal wouldn't mind; he's at that stage where he just wants to talk to her). Cal snuggles his nose into her hair and finally catches the silliness of his behaviour. He's smitten. Best to get that out of his system while Gillian's not looking. He has a reputation to uphold.
Just kidding.
He's ready to show her.
Cal has to pry his arm loose though, because he needs the bathroom. He wakes Gillian a bit more this time, and she curls in on herself, the bed sheet low over her back so he can see the full expanse of her skin and he has to take a second to have a good look (while he pulls on his underwear). God, she's gorgeous. And God, he loves her. He's so in love with her he almost can't stand it. He thinks about waking her right now to tell her. But maybe he should go to the loo first. Except, when he's done with the loo he gets a bit scared (the spell has broken) and so he goes to finish making that tea (might be nicer to disturb her sleep with a little something sweet; good ice breaker). As he's pouring water he hears a noise behind him, and glances over his shoulder. Gillian's standing in the doorway, wearing a tank top (with no bra on, by the way) and cotton shorts (Cal wonders if there's underwear on her lower half). The sun is setting through the kitchen windows and the light casts her in an orange glow; surreal. "I wondered if you had left," she murmurs as she crosses the room and slides her hands over his bare skin, around his waist to hug him from behind.
Damn it. He can't catch a break. "Do you ever sleep in?" He asks.
"Yes," Gillian frowns at the back of his shoulder (before she places a kiss there).
"Hm," Cal grumps, but he's not being serious (and the way she's being affectionate with him right now stirs his insides slowly into a lazy whirlpool). He finishes pouring water and turns for the fridge to get milk (he made it with honey), dislodging Gillian from his skin. "Go back to bed," he tells her quietly and she complies without a word. He dissolves honey, pours milk and puts the kitchen back to its tidy state. He carries two cups down the hall and Gillian is there in bed, waiting for him. She flicks back the sheet and takes the offered mug. Cal settles carefully next to her on the mattress and they sit, backs leaning against the bedhead, in silence for a moment, sipping tea, lost in thought (Cal's lost in thought; Gillian's not sure what to say). Cal warms his palms on the cup (it's not that warm, with all that milk; it is summer after all, and a hot drink isn't always a good thing) and tries to broach the subject of 'them' in a way that's not going to seem abrasive.
Gillian suddenly moves her cup to the bedside table, and then she reaches over and takes Cal's mug too, putting it with hers. He gives her a surprised expression, but doesn't resist, and he grins when she shifts to sit in his lap. She places her hands in the curve of his neck, where it meets his shoulder, framing him, and leans down to kiss him. At first it's just a kiss but she makes her intentions clear quickly. She shifts to kiss his neck, feeling the heat rising but his hands raise to her wrists and he turns his head further away, shifting out of her embrace. "Wait," he murmurs and when she pulls back he looks contrite. "Before this gets too far," he adds and Gillian gives him a second of a frown (really? He's saying stop?). "I think we should talk," Cal finishes.
Gillian opens her mouth slightly in surprise as she looks down at him, but words don't come out. It's not the first time he's wanted to talk, so it shouldn't be that much of a shock, especially in light of the fact that they haven't actually gotten to talk (always interrupted. Doesn't look like it this time), but that doesn't mean Gillian has any idea what she wants to say (ok, that's not true. She has a lot of things she wants to say to him. But she's also come to the conclusion that there might be no longer any point in wasting her breath). Cal's hands settle on her thighs (slightly distracting), and the rubs up and down lightly (way more distracting) and she remains firm in not answering.
"About us," Cal prompts, as if she needs it.
"I don't know what to say," Gillian tells him, and it's the flat out truth.
He smooth's his hands up her thighs again (brushes his thumbs along the inside) and stares up at her. She's very aware that she's sitting on his lap, and that he's wearing nothing but underwear (and that his hands seem to be trailing higher and further and more confidently on her thighs). Cal looks thoughtful for a moment. "Move in with me."
Gillian takes a second to process. "No." (Though her heart beats in a funny way, protesting the decision she's made).
"Why not?" Cal asks sharply.
"I can think of half a dozen reasons why not."
"Let's hear them then," Cal says more calmly, his eyes holding an earnest gaze on hers. She can't think of any reasons why not.
"Why should we live together?"
"Well," Cal says quickly and she knows he's been thinking about this, if he's got his answers already lined up. "I liked living with you in Colorado."
Gillian almost cracks up laughing, but holds it in. A smile escapes her though and Cal grins back at her, and surely he gets the humour in that statement?
"We didn't kill each other," Cal points out, amused (yeah, he gets it). "Aside from… well, I'm house trained," he changes tact. "I cook and do dishes and laundry."
Gillian has to admit that that is true. "Is that the only reason you can come up with?" And yes, if that's it, she's disappointed.
"I liked living with you," Cal repeats but he holds her eye and he lowers his tone and so it looks like he really means it, and that it's a significant reason (and her heart leaps with delight; it's totally on Cal's side. Traitor).
"It's still no Cal," Gillian says softly.
"All right," he says and though he does sound a little disappointed, he's not angry (which is different, given how he likes to get his own way, given how typically poorly he does with hearing 'no'). He rubs her thighs again and seems content but he's thinking how this isn't quite going how he thought it might (given how amazingly they just made love). He maybe didn't account for quite how badly his relationship with Gillian has deteriorated (because usually, the Lightman Charm works a treat). He knew he'd have to convince, but he thought she might not resist so hard (is that arrogant of him?). He's going to have to rethink it a bit; play a longer game. Might have to wear her down more slowly (not wear her down, but, sort of wear her down. That's not what he means. He means… Show her so she doesn't have any more doubts. Because clearly she has them. And why shouldn't she? He's been a real jerk, totally unreliable and not particularly careful with her feelings. And she deserves much more than that, from him, from anyone daring to ask for her heart).
"I don't think…" she starts to explain (because it feels like she should. Even though she doesn't know what she's trying to explain. When it comes down to it, she still doesn't know what she wants from him. She has some ideas, but she's too afraid to flesh them out into something cohesive. She hasn't felt as though Cal was on the same page with her, so why should she waste her time and energy lusting after something she might never get? She wants him. But she also doesn't want him. But she doesn't know how to explain that to him without breaking his heart). She looks down at her hands, which are resting against Cal's chest, almost over his heart, where they've been this whole time, and she thinks it could be symbolic.
"It's all right," Cal says and raises a hand to her cheek, brushing the backs of his fingers against her skin, then tucking her hair behind her ear, cutting her off. He doesn't want for her to have to keep… coddling him (and he thinks maybe she doesn't always do it to satiate something in her, but to keep his keel even. The more he thinks about this, the more he realises how awful he's let it become. And he thought he had this all worked out in California. That's why he stayed away so long. He wanted to be sure). But while he looks up at her, her face hesitant and unsure and apologetic (trouble meeting his eye, and he can see there's a tension in her shoulders, because she holds them higher, around her ears; this conversation makes her incredibly uncomfortable, which makes him feel slightly ill), he also realises, that despite it all, despite the last few months (which weren't even entirely his fault), the last few years (which were entirely his fault) she's still here. She's still here. He has to work with that. Even if she's not saying the words, he's got to hear that message loud and clear: she's still here. She hasn't kicked him out. She didn't slam that door in his face. She invited him into her bed and she's not saying 'no' (the moving in thing notwithstanding. It was stupid. He shouldn't have said it. He's not always good at censoring his mouth. But he's definitely going to be working on that too).
"Maybe I could take you out to dinner sometime?" Cal asks.
Gillian meets his eye and she looks curious and thoughtful and confused and unsure all at the same time (and so very gorgeous with it. Time off has been good for her). "Maybe," she says.
AN: Thank you for reviewing, especially to those who reviewed as a Guest, and who I couldn't personally respond to.