He woke to the quiet of the apartment, feeling unexpectedly bright sunlight warming the room. He stretched his muscles, his long arms spreading out on the smooth sheets of his bed. His fingers traveled without unwanted resistance as he blinked himself to alertness.
He felt surprisingly rested, calm, like he had slept for days, and the brightness made him realize that he did sleep for a long time, failing to wake up to his internal alarm clock.
The word 'ironic' was his first conscious thought, it was after all the first time in a long time he did not wake up at the crack of dawn.
He turned around to lay on his back, studying the lines of his ceiling as consciousness slowly flooded his brain. There was a solemn feeling rising inside of him, as his thoughts cleared and yesterday's memories registered in his brain one by one. Memories of mostly her. Despite his incredible need finally satisfied, he couldn't quite say his torture of missing her nearness evaporated. If only, the void was even more noticeable, every memory of last night protesting in his head. He met them with a surprising calmness, lacking any irrationality. As if all had been decided for him long ago, and no amount of trying and fighting would make any difference.
'Predestination is the easy way out' he thought to himself with a wry smile. Yet the thought of rising from his bed seemed unbelievably hard.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, launching himself out of his confines, the air strangely warm around his naked body.
He found some boxers and a t-shirt to put on, happy to be able to occupy himself with something as he made his way out of his bedroom.
Silence speaks volumes, and he suddenly felt like his apartment had a soul of its own, apologetically commanding it's every object to present it's owner with the silence his state, his life, his destiny deserved.
He stumbled into the kitchen, managing to finish putting on his shirt.
Her quiet, shy stare stopped him dead in his tracks.
She sat on a bar stool, like a vision, white, creamy legs barely cowered by the shirt she was wearing. His shirt from yesterday, he noticed.
The makeup was gone, the hair tussled and flowing every which way, her skin wonderfully pale, and her eyes... as always... deep, blue and heartbreaking.
Breathing seemed a great effort at that moment, as he leaned against the doorway of the kitchen, taken aback by her sight.
She was there. Squirming uncomfortably under his gaze, the epicenter of the silence of his apartment, and suddenly it didn't feel like silence, it felt like a humble worship, a home yielding to its goddess, to its queen.
He smirked at the unbelievably cheesy metaphor and she must have taken it as a greeting because she smiled back shyly, dropping her gaze nervously as she fiddled with the edge of the shirt she was wearing.
These moments of innocence that she still shone sometimes, buried under years of growing up, of experience and of loss reminded him of how she used to be, of what she used to mean to him back before he even knew anything about her. It made his smile grow fonder, truer, and for the first time in such a long time he found himself looking at her without hurt, without dismay.
He moved to take the seat across from her, not able to take his eyes off of her.
She was there.
The thought seemed to bounce around in his head without him daring to analyze the meaning.
"You must have been tired" she spoke, still not looking at him "I can't remember you ever sleeping so much".
He noticed a blush and the fact that she still had not looked up, as if afraid of what his reaction would be.
"You've been up long?" he asked, surprised by how calm his voice sounded despite the vibrating joy inside of him.
She shrugged and smiled again, glancing up at him as he kept staring, unable to do anything.
She dropped her gaze again nervously.
He found himself wanting to stare at her, to sit in that kitchen, the silence enveloping them, without questions, without plans, without the issues that threatened to make themselves known by surfacing in their conversation. He wanted a break from desperately wanting her, he wanted a break of having her there.
She looked up, her eyes curious and he knew the moment was gone. Keeping Rory in silence would be like keeping butterflies on pins.
"You don't have any coffee" she noted shyly, a small blush forming on her face.
He smirked with recognition, remembering the time he tossed all remnants of the stuff out into the garbage, banishing even the memory of the liquid from his home.
"Yeah, I guess I forgot to fill up" he replied and noted her eyes narrowing for a half of second, a sure sign of her catching his lie. She dropped her eyes to the floor again, her face becoming serious and for a second he felt ashamed.
"It reminded you of me?" came her question and his breathing caught in his chest, not used to the directness. She was always more for careful dancing around the subject rather than the tough hitting questions.
He took a deep breath and nodded. There was no point to deny.
"I thew out my weights" she shrugged, referring to the objects that if he remembered correctly, were never in heavy use when it came to Rory.
He chuckled and found the spot she was fixated on with his own eyes, silence once again taking over.
It could have felt awkward, the whole moment, but somehow the possibility of the situation, the hope still flickering inside of him despite all he'd gone through, made it feel bearable, nice even.
She was there. As a sign, as an offer, as a great effort on her part, he was sure. But there. It had to mean something.
It meant everything.
"You hungry?" he asked, rising quickly from his chair, energy suddenly bursting in his body. He didn't wait for an answer, obvious as it was. He felt some weird drive to activate himself, as if his body were ordering him to burn all the giddiness threatening to totally take over his senses.
He moved to the refrigerator, taking out ingredients, his arms moving automatically, taking out dishes and knives, cutting and chopping. As if occupying himself would quiet his mind's buzzing thoughts.
He was acutely aware of her presence, despite forcing himself not to look back at her. He focused on his task instead, content with the thought that she was there.
Her arms snaking around his torso threw that plan to the wind.
Suddenly, the onions on the hot oil were unimportant, because there was a fire burning more hot inside of him, there was a pull of gravity and a force of nature taking over thoughts and plans he might have made.
She clung to him, and her body seemed so familiar, so warm, so true. It felt like his heart calmed to its proper pace, finally, finally, after an endlessly long time. It felt like his body finally found rest, his cells calming, his muscles relaxing, a long breath finally leaving his body that he seemed to have been holding for days, weeks, months perhaps.
How could she be so gentle, he wondered as he closed his eyes, easing into her hold, how could she be so naively sweet, when no woman had ever managed to destroy him like she had.
He felt her head rest against his back, the silkiness of her hair tickling his arms and a thousand memories seemed to rush him, his senses greeting the familiarity.
"What are you making?" she asked, casually, the awkwardness and shyness seemingly gone.
He focused back on the onions close to burning by now.
"Omelet" he replied, as if there was anything else to make from eggs and vegetables in a hot pan.
He smirked as he heard her respond with a good natured 'oooh', slipping from his body and reclaiming her place by the kitchen table.
"Don't forget the bacon" she said matter of factly "and the cheese" she added.
"I wouldn't dare make a healthy omelet" he murmured. turning back to the sizzling pan with his smirk in place.
He worked efficiently, focusing on perfecting the dish, and he thought about the dilemma he felt about her. How when she wasn't there, all he could think about was looking at her, of studying her every part, of staring, of devouring. But now that she was, like always, he tried his hardest not to look at her, settling instead of sensing her with every other sense he could. Even now, he could tell she was sitting on that stool, with bare legs crossed, fingers tracing imaginary lines on the top of the table, her eyes studying his actions in quiet wonder.
He knew this sight, he'd seen it, so many times. And perhaps not looking at her was protection, in case she wasn't like she used to be during their years together.
He finished preparing the food, placing it gently on a plate and placing it in front of her as he sat across form her once again.
"Wow" she said staring at the plate and he was reminded of the time he first dazzled her with his cooking abilities, earning him a weekend of grateful sex.
He smirked, partly at the memory and partly at her childish amazement whenever presented with food.
"Eat up" he nudged her gently and watched as she obeyed, hungrily.
He had not started on his own food, taking the chance instead to watch her as she occupied herself with the process of stuffing her face. He missed this, watching her succumb to her favorite pastime, unceremoniously indulging in the food he prepared so carefully. He found himself smiling once again.
"What are you doing today?" he asked quietly, as he started to pick on his own food.
She frowned, groaning.
"I have an assignment" she replied full-mouthed, her face suddenly void of the glow she seemed to possess all morning.
He studied her quietly, wondering about whether the lack of joy she seemed to show towards her work had been there for a long time now. If this too had been something he failed to notice while living beside her, living with her.
"What is it?" he asked intrigued by the whole question, wanting to understand how the change took place in front of his eyes, without him ever realizing.
"It's a story I've been covering. I am interviewing this guy about a merge between Yahoo and this small internet company" she explained vaguely, gesturing with her free hand and it was hard not to ignore the lack of enthusiasm.
"Sounds interesting" he said and he wondered if the worry in his voice was evident to her as well.
She didn't seem to notice as he eyes drifted off into the distance.
"Yeah..." she murmured.
She sighed, turning back to the plate of half finished food.
"What are you doing?" she asked him and he noticed her desire to drop the subject.
He picked at his food again.
"There is always work" he stated and she looked up at him, concern showing in her eyes.
"You've been working a lot" she said, her voice careful, quiet.
He looked back at her, his gaze meeting hers, ignoring a strong urge to be reproachful.
But there was no sense in that, no sense in saying 'What else could I spend my time doing?', he learned that by now.
She seemed to sense it anyway, because she dropped her gaze back to her plate.
There was silence again, awkward this time and he felt his chest tighten.
"When is your meeting?" he said, rising from his seat as he took his plate of barely touched food, placing it on the counter.
"Noon" she replied as she took the last bite of her food.
He took her empty plate, busying himself with the cleanup and he suddenly felt their old familiar heaviness return. As if the ghosts and heavy feelings finally found them in that elegant apartment after having searched the whole city for them. His giddiness slowly evaporated and he had a hard time avoiding the questions racing in his head.
He felt a strange feeling of failure, of loss. He had a fixed idea that she would be gone by the time he finished with washing the dishes, that the kitchen would be empty and her body gone, vanishing into thin air without leaving any trace. Perhaps it would have been easier because by now he was used to that, used to accepting her disappearance. What he wasn't used to was facing consequences, of wondering about how they are going to part, of how it's going to be, of how this will work.
The quiet panic he must have exuded reached Rory too.
"Tristan" he said, his name sounding like a prayer from her mouth and he dropped the dish in his hand, the clatter as it hit the sink echoing in the sudden quiet of the kitchen.
He sighed, closing his eyes, resting his weight on his hands.
He felt her arm tug at his t-shirt and he let her turn him around, slowly opening his eyes.
"Hey" she whispered and he recognized his desperation, his doubtfulness echoing in her own gaze.
She moved closer, rising to her tiptoes as his hands unconsciously snaked around her.
He closed his eyes as her soft lips met his and he let her kiss him gently, his body bursting into quiet flames as her lips lingered on his.
She rested her forehead against his and he held her quietly, trying to steady his disbelief, her closeness calming his racing thoughts.
It felt heartbreaking, the way she seemed to want to hold onto him, seemed to want to tilt the scale back to their side, to make things feel more comfortable and not so impossibly doomed.
He sighed, wishing it would be so simple. That you could make a situation seem hopeful just by sheer will of faith.
Saturdays were not made for work" he whispered in mock grimness, trying to lighten the mood and she chuckled lightly, seemingly happy to overcome the awkwardness.
"Poor baby's gotta hit the office" she teased and he raised an eyebrow.
"I am more sorry for you" he said smugly and she furrowed her brows questioningly.
"You gotta interview a CEO in a naughty schoolgirl uniform" he stated with a smirk.
"I am going home to change" she informed him, trying to break away from his hold as if to make her point.
"You wish" he replied with a smirk as he pulled her back "you don't have time to go home to change"
"What are you talking about, it's not even ten" she replied uneasily, once again trying to escape his strong hold.
He lowered his face to her neck, starting to kiss the soft skin gently.
"Your point being?" he murmured, satisfied to feel her shiver and release a sigh.
"Tristan" she warned him playfully.
"What? I cooked breakfast" he deadpanned and she laughed as she pushed herself off of him.
He watched with a smile as she walked out of the kitchen chuckling quietly.
He leaned back against the counter, watching her departing form and he sighed. His uneasy feelings were not gone, despite him having managed to lighten the heavy mood of the morning.
Truth was he had no idea what was going to happen. But he didn't feel ready to know. Uncertainty, as heavy as it was for him to get used to, had become his companion that he learned to accept.
He looked up, seeing her lean against the doorway of his kitchen, clad in her uniform that even with his shirt on top for more coverage, seemed wildly inappropriate for a serious reporter.
He couldn't help but smirk and she gave him a playfully scolding look.
"Can I see you later?" she asked shyly and he had to make sure he heard her right, studying her face tingled with a soft blush.
He resisted an urge to nod enthusiastically, partly, because the uneasiness in his chest turned into the old familiar ache as her impending departure became apparent.
He thought about his answer wiping his hands with the washcloth and his solemn face must have sent her into another set of panic, because she turned around nervously.
"Unless if you're busy" she mumbled, taking a step out of the kitchen.
"Call me when you're done" he replied calmly, despite himself, and watched as she spun around, not able to hide a budding smile on her face.
"Okay" she mouthed and he dropped his gaze again nervously, not quite knowing how her leaving is going to go down.
Occupying himself with the washcloth again, he sensed her come closer slowly, the smile widening on her face.
"You'll be at the office?" she asked quietly as she came to stop in front of him.
He nodded as he tossed the washcloth aside and suddenly pulled her even closer, smiling at her yelp of surprise. His hands rested on her hips and he watched with a content smirk as her breathing sped up slightly, her arms snaking around his neck.
He stared at her mouth, licking his own and watched her eyes flutter shut, goosebumps rapidly forming on her skin.
His attempt to kiss her goodbye suddenly turned into wanting her incredibly, her apparent arousal waking his own.
The temperature seemed to rise noticeably as he pulled her even closer to his hips, letting her feel his arousal and she exhaled heavily, her eyes still closed and her mouth expectant.
He moved closer, letting his breath play on her face, but leaving her hanging for long seconds.
When his lips finally reached hers, she opened up to him instantly, his tongue slipping into her mouth as she responded with a moan, sending his head spinning. He pulled her flush against him, his hands roaming her body, and slipping under her impossibly short skirt.
His mouth broke away from hers, moving to suck on her neck and her soft moans made him go wild with want.
He cursed quietly, needing more friction and he lifted her up, spinning them around to lift her to sit on the counter, her legs going around his waist. He ground into her and she gasped.
He felt like his whole body was on fire, blood thumping through his vessels, his fingers shaking as he freed her of his shirt.
"I'm going to be so late" she sighed breathless, her voice full of desire as his fingers unhooked her bra, his lips seeking out a taut nipple that he sucked into his mouth eliciting a hiss from her.
"Yahoo can wait" he replied as his mouth moved on to the other nipple and his hands disappeared under her skirt, his fingers tugging at her panties. He heard her chuckle and she lifted her hips giving him room to finish his task, tossing the white panties aside.
His fingers inched up her inner thighs and she parted her legs for him, letting him reach her center.
He kissed her again, groaning into her mouth as his fingers slipped inside of her warm wetness.
"Fuck, Rory" he cursed again, his mind instantly fogged by the way her slick wetness felt.
He pushed his fingers into her gently a couple of times and she moaned in response, making him take a shaky breath. He pulled out of her, momentarily breaking away to push his boxers down and throw his shirt off, standing in front of her completely naked. He noted contently that her eyes traveled down his body, coming to focus on his throbbing erection. He moved back between her legs and he braced himself against the counter as his hands went under her bare bottom, lifting her up slightly, his erection pressing up against her entrance.
He forced his eyes open, watching her flushed face as he pushed inside of her, her tight walls clenching around his member, draining him with sweet wetness. His eyes rolled back at the sensation and he thought he might cum right there and then, she felt so tight and warm as he slid in all the way. He paused for a moment, steadying his breathing and inhaling her sweet scent.
He took a deep breath and swiftly pulled out, thrusting right back into her. She moaned with pleasure, her head falling back against the cabinet, and he saw a chill run across her skin, his senses threatening to overload. He thrust into her again, groaning as she moaned and wrapped her legs even more tightly around him.
"Oh god, Tristan" she moaned and it was all he could do to hold back. He thrust into her again, going as deep as he could, setting a steady rhythm, making her breasts bounce slightly and his whole body tittering near the edge.
"You are so beautiful" he whispered into her ear "so fucking beautiful".
She whimpered in return, her arms clinging onto him as he pounded into her.
"Deeper" she breathed and he groaned hearing her request, his last ounce of self control snapping as his muscles tensed.
He pushed into her violently, a loud cry of pleasure and pain breaking from her lips.
"Yesss" she urged him on, her words becoming muffled and he sped up, feeling her wetness seeping down his own leg.
His whole body started to tingle and he felt the insane tension in his lower abdomen slowly spread towards his erection that was pounding mercilessly into her.
"God baby, I'm gonna cum" he whispered into her ear and that seemed to push her over the edge, because her whole body tensed and she screamed, her walls clamping around him as she convulsed, her moaning ringing in his ear.
He screamed himself, letting go with one final thrust, his orgasm exploding withing her as she still writhed in pleasure beneath him. He felt his whole body shake, his muscles threatening to tear as the incredible wave of pleasure reached every last inch of his body.
He collapsed against her, trying desperately to catch his breath. He felt weak, unable to move and all he could smell and feel was her, her slick wetness combined with his, their warm bodies glued together.
He supported himself on his shaking arms, his breathing still erratic as he opened his eyes to stare at her disheveled appearance. Her eyes were shut tightly, her face flushed, her chest still heaving, the bunched up plaid miniskirt the only article of clothing remaining on her. She was absolutely gorgeous.
He kissed her gently, the strength still not quite back in his body and she smiled as she accepted his lips. Her skin felt incredibly soft and smooth and his fingers couldn't seem to get enough of it, roaming her body continuously.
Her smoothness, her warmness, their closeness brought back memories and he couldn't help not notice that this was the first time in such a long while that their lovemaking left him without any sense of guilt or desperation. Even with all the uncertainty surrounding them, his chest finally felt light.
He looked at her again, brushing away the stray curls from her face. He pulled out of her with a quiet curse and moved closer to her body, enjoying the feel of her smooth arms wrapping around his back.
"Well, Ya-hoo" he murmured into her neck suggestively and she giggled, the sound penetrating into his body as he held her close against his chest.