A/N: Not much to say other than this chapter first contains a lot of angst, then a lot of smut and then some funny to lighten the story back up a bit from the last chapter. This was originally the second half of chapter 17, but it was too long and needed a bit of attention of its own. I'm not a songfic kind of girl (and will likely never write one) but the idea for their fight popped in my head when I was listening to the radio and Peace by O.A.R. (an awesome band and awesome song btw). So, I decided to include it in this story before concluding it. There is still at least the end chapter (maybe one more) after this…
"Rise and shine," Beecher said as he approached Monroe's cell.
Monroe raised his head and looked at the sheriff warily. He'd fully intended on taking the heat for going after the cattle thieves but he hadn't considered the possibility that he'd actually be arrested for it. But, then again he hadn't considered much of anything other than punishing them for the attack on Mary Armstrong either. "So when does the train to Lexington leave?"
He sat down on the corner of his desk and looked at the man that helped save the country. "In about an hour, but you won't be on it."
"What!?" the man on the other side of the wall cried in outrage. "I watched him beat Tommy to death. Why do I have to go and he don't? I didn't kill no one."
"Shut up, asshole." Beecher snapped. "You could have gotten in and out of there with a few cows, but you sat there and watched while you're buddy assaulted their owner. And from what I hear, your pal was killed when he tried to attack the men trying to apprehend your little gang."
Beecher's response shocked Monroe. The man was usually on the up and up. "I don't understand," he said quietly.
Beecher motioned for him to go to the opposite side of the cell. "I got word early this morning that the Federal Army is unable to send assistance at this time and that I am to attempt to apprehend the suspects by any means necessary." He kept his voice low so that the other prisoner could not hear. "Clayton Armstrong has made his official statement, and in that he's sworn that you approached them without a weapon drawn and gave them an opportunity to turn themselves in. For all I know, that man could have died from injuries sustained while you were placing them under citizen's arrest."
Monroe reached a hand through the bars of his cell. Beecher accepted this and shook it. "Thank you."
Beecher nodded as he backed away. "Just try to keep out of trouble. And for God's sake, lay off the booze. You smell like a distillery."
He couldn't help but laugh. "So when am I getting out of here?"
"When your wife gets here to take your sorry ass home. I sent word to your family of your predicament last night."
Monroe sat down on the bunk in his cell. "What did you tell them?"
Beecher resumed his position on the corner of the desk. "That you'd been arrested for vigilantism. I'll leave it to you to explain the rest." Before he could say any more the door to the office opened. Charlie and Miles walked in to bring him home.
Charlie took in the sight of him as he slowly stood up in the cell. His knuckles were swollen, cut and bruised. He looked exhausted and spent – essentially he looked like he'd ridden to hell and back. They left Beecher's office without a word. His horse was already waiting next to the wagon, but Miles wasn't about to let him ride. He mounted it instead. Resigned, Monroe turned to climb into the wagon when a feminine voice stopped him. "Mr. Monroe!"
He turned to face Mary and Clayton Armstrong. Mary's face still bore the bruises form her attack. She waked forward and placed a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you," she said sincerely before she rejoined her husband. That man nodded out of respect before heading his wife into the sheriff's office to make her own official statement. Stunned, Monroe turned back and climbed wearily into the wagon where Charlie waited for him.
They were almost home when Charlie turned the wagon down the wrong road. Miles continued down the correct road alone. Still not trusting himself to speak, Monroe shot her a questioning look. "We've got things to work out and we need privacy to do it," she explained. They continued on for a few hours, heading east. It was well past noon when Charlie finally pulled the wagon to a stop in front of a small cabin. "Daniel told me about this place while you were still back east. He said his grandfather used it while he was a bootlegger during prohibition. I'd thought that once you got home we could get away for a few days, just like you said in your letter."
Monroe flinched when she'd mentioned the promise he'd made for them to get away as a family. He mentally added it to the list of things he'd fucked up since he'd come back. The cabin looked like it had been kept in decent repair at least. Charlie jumped down without another word and headed to the back of the wagon. Monroe had not noticed before but there were several crates of supplies in the back. He helped her unload and carry everything inside.
"Good, it's still halfway clean. I came out here one day and fixed it up a little." She took a look around before heading into the kitchen. "There's a pump around back. Go clean yourself up. I'll fix something to eat."
"Charlie, I'm- " he started, but she cut him off before he could finish.
"Just go. I'm not interested in anything you have to say while you're covered in blood and filth. We'll talk when later when you've got some food in you." Her voice was cold, firm. Before he could think of a single thing to say, she turned her back on him and started unloading the crate of food in the kitchen. Apparently she'd planned on staying for a few days.
He clenched his jaw before he said something stupid and went to comply. When he returned a simple meal was already laid out for them. Charlie watched him as they ate in silence. Well, she ate and he picked at his food, just has he had been for weeks on end. She knew he had to be starving. She just didn't get it. "When's the last time you ate a real meal?"
He shrugged. "Day or two, I guess." He couldn't bring himself to look at her. Charlie was already done and he'd not taken more than a few of bites. The longer he pushed the food around his plate in the pretense of eating it, the more she stared at him. Her message was received. She wasn't going to move from that spot or listen to a word he had to say until he'd finished. As badly as he'd fucked up, there she was still trying to take care of him. Feeling even guiltier than he already had, Monroe gave in and made an effort.
When he'd finished to her satisfaction he rose from the chair and started to clean up. "I'll get it," he murmured. She almost told him to leave it before she realized that he needed to move, do something. She nodded and went over to the other side of the cabin, which served as the living room. She sat down on the couch and waited for him to complete his task, knowing that he'd join her when he was done.
Her resentment was obvious when she spoke. "What happened to you? You came back a completely different person."
He sat down next to her, resting his elbows on his knees. "I don't know. I just can't seem to find my footing. It's like I had to resurrect the worst part of me to get the job done when we were fighting the Patriots and now I can't bury it again. I told you once before that part of me would always be there in the background."
Charlie suddenly felt so foolish. She should have seen it; should have known to watch for the signs. "Why didn't you talk to me?"
He sat back and rested his head on the back of the couch, turning it just enough to look at her. "Come on, Charlie. How could I explain it to you when I didn't understand what was going on myself? Everything just felt wrong. It wasn't until that last night when I – I fucked up that I realized where it was really coming from."
They locked eyes for the first time since she'd picked him up from town. She could read the pain behind his guarded expression. "Is that why you left?"
He blinked back the tears that filled his eyes. "I am so sorry. I never –" he choked back a sob before he could continue. "That wasn't what I meant to happen when I went in there. I don't know how it got to that point. When I realized what I almost did, yeah I left; to protect you and the kids from me."
"You promised me that you would never leave like you did before, not again." Her voice cracked.
Monroe pushed himself off the couch. He could take her anger and maybe even her hate, if it came to it. He couldn't handle her tears – not when he was the source of them. "I left, but I wasn't leaving. I just needed to get away long enough to get my head straight."
She still needed to think about that, so she changed the subject. "You wanna tell me how you landed in Beecher's jail?"
Monroe sighed. "Not particularly, but I will." He went on to tell her about the theft at Clayton's and what happened when they'd found them.
"So he arrested you for killing them?"
"Not that part." He sat back down on the couch and resumed his earlier position, arms resting on his knees, unable to look at her. "I beat a man to death yesterday, Charlie –with my bare hands." He looked down at his battered knuckles, flexing them.
Charlie's jaw dropped. "You… Why?"
"One of those douchebags attacked Mary Armstrong, roughed her up pretty good and…" He took a deep breath before continuing. "… did to her what I very well could have done to you. When she identified him, I just lost it. And since I can't physically kick my own ass, I kicked his instead." He could practically feel her tense up next to him on the couch. "Yeah, I'm that fucked up."
Silence fell between them as she thought about what he'd said. There were so many difference facets to his personality. There was the cold, calculating and manipulative General; the strong and yet still gentle and caring husband and father; the violent fighter that would survive at all costs; and then the self-deprecating loner, desperate for forgiveness yet always believing he was unworthy of it. On most days, he was a strange blend of all of these different parts, but today all she could see was the sorrow and regret. It reminded her of the Monroe that she'd met in the pool long ago and afterwards when she'd awoken from being drugged in that inn.
The difference between then and now was that she knew that it wasn't the act she'd once accused it of being. She knew him well enough to know that this was just how he was built. "You really are a mess, you know?" she finally said with a sigh as she reached out and touched his arm.
They talked a while longer, stopping when Charlie realized that he was dead on his feet. The only things they'd been able to resolve had so far been that he needed to do something about the drinking (she knew better than to expect him to give it up entirely – he'd been functioning alcoholic for most of his adult life right along with Miles) and he had to work on his temper.
The bedroom was really just a section of the cabin that had been sectioned off with canvas sheets to conceal the bed and offer a little privacy. She led him there now. It was getting dark and they were both exhausted. They lay side by side, close but not touching, staring at the rustic beams above them in the dying light. "Where do we go from here?" he asked after a while.
Charlie rolled over, propping herself up on one elbow to look at him. "Where do you want to go?"
He continued to stare at the ceiling while he worked up the courage to tell her. He knew he didn't deserve what he wanted. Charlie reached over and pressed her hand to his cheek, caressing his face gently. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the contact for a few moments. "I want things to be like they were before. I just don't know how to get it back. And I get it if you don't want that. I can't expect you to forgive me for the way I've been or for that night. Not when I can't even forgive myself."
In response, Charlie brushed her lips on his, ever so lightly. He froze. His every instinct was to grab her and go with it, but he wouldn't. He let her take complete control, something he'd never done before. She understood what he was doing – he was humbling himself before her. She urged his mouth open and swept her tongue inside. He kissed her back, but he let her lead him wherever she wanted it to go.
Charlie hadn't planned on anything more. They were both too tired and things were still not quite resolved between them, but she couldn't deny that she found the idea of being in complete control of him unbelievably alluring. And it had been a very, very long time since they'd been together.
Before she had a chance to talk herself out of it, she found the bottom of his shirt and yanked it upwards. Taking the hint, he pulled it over his head and tossed it aside. She kissed along his jawline and down his neck. Monroe wrapped his hands up in the thin sheet to keep them to himself. He wouldn't touch her without her asking him to do it first.
His breath hitched as she worked her way down to his chest and swept a tongue over his nipple. She'd never kissed him there before; had never even considered that a man would find it arousing. She flicked the other one lightly with her tongue before working her way down his abs. Her hand rested lightly over his groin and could feel him getting hard as she licked and kissed her way down towards the waistband of his jeans.
He watched her through hooded eyes as she undid the snap and slowly pulled the zipper down. He lifted his hips so she could yank his jeans down. His erection sprang forward in anticipation. The feel of her breath on the tip was torturous. She looked up at him as she pressed a light kiss on the head. He had to fight the urge to grab her head and guide her. Instead he clenched his fists in the sheet so hard that he felt one of the cuts on his knuckle split back open.
When she took him fully in her mouth he let out a loud moan. As she slowly worked her mouth up and down on him he brought his hips up to meet her. She stoked the shaft, gripping him just right as she swirled her tongue around the tip, sucking lightly. He began to pant with need. "Charlie," he groaned. She took the hint. If she didn't stop soon, he'd be done before she had a chance to get started herself.
She licked and stroked him a few more times before she slid her body up, lying on top of him. "Please touch me now," she whispered as she claimed his mouth.
He released the sheet that he was gripping like a lifeline, bringing a hand up to the nape of her neck. He tentatively massaged her there while they kissed, this time he asserted more control in the melding of their mouths. He slid his other hand up the back of her tank top. The light contact sent a pleasant shiver up her spine. With a flick of his fingers, he unhooked her bra and then removed both garments from her.
He flipped them both over and stretched out alongside her. He ran his hand up and down her side - down to her hip; barely touching her with is fingertips. The gentle contact sent her pulse racing. The circles he traced over her stomach started to make her whole body tingle. She began to pant and writhe under his hand. He eventually settled on her breast, and she cried out when he gently rolled one hardening nipple between his fingers.
Charlie's hands flew to her jeans. She began to unzip them impatiently when he nudged her hands out of his way and took over. He worked the zipper down as he took one rosy peak into his mouth, curling his tongue around it while she moaned. He pulled her jeans down enough to get his hand inside her cotton panties. When he ran his finger lightly over her entrance he was pleased to find her drenched. She kicked herself free of her pants and spread her legs for him. "Please she moaned as he slid his finger all the way inside before adding a second.
She rolled her hips as his fingers taunted her, enjoying the erotic rhythm he was creating. "I want to feel you," she said as she panted. He withdrew his fingers and pulled her panties off of her before rolling onto his back and lifting her over him. Charlie laid down on him as she straddled his hips and sank down on his hardness slowly, taking him fully inside her.
He cupped the back of her head and urged her face towards his and they laid there for several minutes, tongues moving tenderly as her sheath adjusted to his girth after so many months without having had him. When they finally moved it was slowly. Instead of desperate thrusts, they rocked together, their bodies remaining perfectly joined as if they were in a slow, erotic dance.
Desperate to be closer, he rolled them over. She lifted her thighs higher, gripping his sides with them so he could penetrate her deeper. He swirled his hips in slow circles, the friction and pressure driving her wild. Their bodies were drenched as they clung to each other. Monroe broke his mouth away from hers and began to kiss and lick at her throat. He could taste the salt on her skin as he slid his mouth down her throat and up the side of her neck. Her hand tangled in his hair as she arched her neck back to give him better access.
The feel of her wet folds gripping him after the stimulation from her tongue earlier was making it hard for him to hold back. It had been too long since they'd been together and all he wanted was to come inside her. As she got closer, Charlie began bucking her hips under him as her soft cries escaped her. This broke his tenuous grip on his control. Their rocking ceased as he pulled out and thrusted back inside her rapidly. Her thighs squeezed his sides tightly as the tension within her reached its breaking point. "That's my girl… come for me," he groaned into her ear right before she snapped.
Charlie screamed his name as wave after wave of ecstasy coursed through her. Monroe increased the pace of his thrusts for a few minutes longer before he shot himself deep within her, filling her with his seed as he came with a shout. In the aftermath he found her lips. Their tongues met as they held on to each other. They laid there unmoving as they slowly came back down from the high of their lovemaking.
Half an hour later and only barely hard enough to remain inside her, he went to withdraw. She let out a slight moan at the sensation of him siding within her and flexed herself around him without realizing it. He stiffened just a little, earning another light moan as she felt it. She laughed at the way his body had responded, which caused her to clench around him again. The feeling only aroused him further. "Really?" she asked, amused.
It was his turn to moan as he sank back in again as he got harder. "This is entirely your fault," he said as he captured her mouth again. He worked himself in and out of her slowly. Each time he glided back into her, he got harder until he was fully erect once more. The mixture of their combined fluids made her almost too wet, so he flipped her over, drawing her hips up and reentering her from behind. The new angle at which he penetrated her increased her need. His chest was pressing up against her back when he leaned forward to kiss the back of her neck.
He reached around her and found her breast, kneading it as he continued to thrust into her. Charlie surprised him as she reached under and began to stimulate her sensitive clit. "God that's hot," he panted.
She worked her hand faster. "More, harder!" she cried. He was only happy to comply. He increased his pace, slamming himself into her. The quickly worked their way up into a frenzy, hearts pounding and their breathing harsh. Suddenly, she bore down against him and exploded again. He rammed into her a few more times, his own orgasm taking him by surprise as he bottomed out against her cervix and poured into her once more. "Damn," he moaned.
The second round left him overly sensitive. He actually winced as he withdrew and collapsed sideways, groaning. Charlie flopped down on the bed, turning to look at him. "Problem?"
"I think you may have actually killed me," he said as he struggled to catch his breath.
She reached out to stroke his softening appendage, but he caught her hand before she could touch him. "Don't you dare. I don't want you anywhere near that right now. You broke it."
She laughed at him as she pulled her hand out of his, resting it instead on his thigh. "Enjoy yourself?"
He stared up, not looking at anything in particular while he waited for the blood to come back to his brain. He couldn't wipe the sated grin off of his face. "Best. Makeup. Sex. Ever." When she didn't say anything he suddenly became very unsure of himself. He lifted his head to look at her. "That was makeup sex, not breakup sex, right?"
Charlie crawled over to him. "Hey, look at me. That was not breakup sex. Makeup sex? Well that still depends on you."
Monroe lifted a hand and brushed her hair behind her ear – a simple, intimate gesture he'd done more times than he could count. "I wish I could go back and redo the past two months. For one, I'd have done this the second I got back."
Charlie rolled her eyes at that. "Yeah, cause you'd have been able to do all that with a broken collarbone and a bullet in your leg."
"I should have at least tried," he replied glumly. "Don't give up on me, Charlie. I know that I'm messed up right now, and I fucked up big time, but I want to go home and make things right. I told you earlier, I'll do whatever it takes – I'll quit drinking…" He caught the way disbelieving look she shot him when he said those words. "… okay, I'll drink a lot less then. I'll get back to work. I'll talk to you when I feel like I'm slipping."
Charlie crawled back over to her pillow and stretched out, holding her arms open in invitation. He followed and wrapped himself around her. "Okay then, best makeup sex ever," she said with a smile.
"Yeah it was, wasn't it?" He placed a light kiss on her shoulder and settled down to finally get real sleep.
The next morning he woke up a lot later than Charlie did. He found her sitting on the front porch steps, enjoying an unusually cool late August morning. He sat down, straddling her legs and wrapping his arms around her from behind. "Hey," he whispered into her ear.
Charlie leaned back into his embrace and rested her head against his chest. "Good morning. Sleep good?"
"Yeah, I did actually." He kissed her lightly on top of her head and closed his eyes. "I love you."
Charlie turned her head slightly and looked up at him. "Love you," she responded. "Hungry?"
He let out a little growl. "Maybe."
"I meant food, pervert."
With an exaggerated sigh he stood up and held out a hand to pull her to her feet. "Yes, I would love it if you'd feed me, woman. And if you've brought coffee I promise to clean my plate."
She led him to the kitchen in false indignation. "The things I do for you…"
"… are wonderfully naughty and I don't deserve them," he finished as he came up behind her and swatted her on the butt. He went out back to bring water from the pump for her to use, returning to see her pulling various things out of the cabinet. He attempted to help her, but she shooed him out of the way, claiming he was underfoot.
Charlie watched him drink his coffee happily while she cooked. He did look a bit better in the morning – happier and more at peace. She knew they had a long way to go, but it was at least a start. And he'd finally started smiling again, which for him was always a sign of progress.
They spent the next few days together at the cabin, just being together – a honeymoon of sorts. Charlie insisted they both needed the time to reset before going back to the everyday stress of parenting and trying to keep Daniel's farm running. The war had taken its toll on their farm right alongside their neighbors' farms. Daniel had donated crops that he would have normally sold to Donovan's army and to the training camp. This had left them low on funds, especially since they were paying fourteen field hands as well as feeding the ten that lived on the farm year round now. This would only add to the stress that Monroe knew he'd have to face.
Their return home was awkward for him. Only Miles knew everything that had happened the night he left, but Monroe couldn't help but to feel uncomfortable around the others. Even if they didn't know about the gun and his actions later that night, he'd still been a prick to anyone in his blast radius and had let his work suffer because of his actions.
In his absence, Connor had moved out of the bunkroom in the stable. He'd been afraid that it was because his son had thought he'd bailed again, but was at least relieved to find out that he'd only moved into the little cabin he and Charlie had shared at Avery's farm – presumably to be closer to Katie Carter.
As he got back to the life he'd dreamt of during the war, he still had problems. The restlessness and agitation were still there, but this time instead of embracing them, he made a more concentrated effort to diffuse them, with Charlie's help.
Monroe comes in the back door right as Priscilla is cooking breakfast. He's found that it's easier to get himself moving if he starts his day in the quiet hours before dawn. He's still having a little trouble sleeping, and it's better than staring at the ceiling and waiting for the sun to rise at any rate. He'd awoken with a splitting headache which is slowly progressing as his morning continues – a consequence of the chronic lack of sleep and the drastic reduction in his whiskey intake.
Aaron, Rachel and Miles sit at the table with their coffee (although he suspects Miles' cup contains straight whiskey) and the twins are in their highchairs. The kitchen is a lot less crowded since Gene moved into town and Connor moved to the cottage (with Katie, as it happens they are getting hitched).
Angie is whining loudly. Monroe sits down next to her, trying to distract her – the noises she is making are inhuman as far as he's concerned and they are making his headache worse. "What's going on with her?" he asks when she starts to bawl. He's getting very irritated, very quickly.
Charlie sets a bowl of rolled oats in front of her and hands the spoon to him. "She wants her doll," she explains.
Monroe gives Angie the spoon and does his best to supervise her use of it – a work in progress. But all she does is bang it on the table, still in the middle of her tantrum. "Oh for Christ's sake, just give her the damn doll!" he snaps as he pinches the bridge of his nose in pain and in frustration.
Charlie is cutting up a peach for the twins while she helps Danny. "Do you want to be the one stuck washing oats out of it later? 'Cause I don't."
"Whatever," he growls under his breath. He turns back to Angie, who has started squishing her oats between her fingers. "Dammit!" he reaches for a rag to wipe her hands, but isn't fast enough and those sticky oat covered fingers are now in her hair. As he lets out a groan, he's hit in the back of the neck with a particularly mushy chunk of peach. More annoyed, he turns his head in the direction of the fruity missile. He narrows his eyes at Charlie, the only possible culprit. Everyone in the room tenses up, expecting him to explode. It's obvious that he's been working up to it since he sat down.
As he opens his mouth to snap at her, Charlie rolls her eyes and sticks her tongue out at him. The anger on his face morphs into one of confusion. 'Did she seriously just do that?' he thinks. Her actions are bordering on ridiculous, and he suddenly can't help himself – he starts to laugh. "Ow," he says as he rubs his temples. The laughing hurts (probably a lot less than yelling would have, however).
Still chuckling he shakes his head in disbelief. Priscilla sets a cup of coffee down in front of him before turning back to the stove to finish frying up the bacon for the adults' breakfast. Monroe shoots a pleading look at Aaron who covertly slips him his flask when Charlie isn't looking so he can spike his coffee – there are some things that he just can't live without now, spoiled as he is.
"There's something wrong with all of you," he says as he looks around to see their amusement at his expense, but his anger has completely dissipated and he's calm now. Not to mention the caffeine and alcohol are doing wonders for his headache. He's given up on keeping Angie clean, so he watches her happily make her mess and finds the humor in it. Too bad working cameras are few and far between. He locks eyes with Charlie briefly, a smile spreading on his face as she winks at him.
It had been three weeks of slowly getting back to his life. Each day was filled with a constant flow of irritations and attempts on Monroe's part to keep his cool, and for the most part he'd been successful. The few times he'd lashed out he'd stopped himself from going off the deep end and slowly he found himself enjoying his life a little more. Under Priscilla and Charlie's watchful gazes he'd started eating again and he saved the drinking for his morning coffee and a few in the evening with Miles, Aaron and less frequently Daniel.
He still had the urge to hide away from it all, but he fought it with everything he had, and little by little his darker tendencies showed themselves less frequently. They were all just heading back out from lunch when a very happy and liberated goat went racing across the barnyard and into the fields. Under his breath, Monroe let out a long stream of expletives followed by "I swear to god, I'm going to kill that goat today."
Charlie gave Miles a meaningful look behind his back. Clearly she'd taken his threat against the animal seriously. His friend ran after him. "Tell you what, Bass. I'll catch the goat while you fix whatever fence he broke. It'll give you a chance to beat something with a hammer, and I could use the exercise."
Several hours later, Monroe returned from fixing several broken sections of the fence alongside the cornfields (Dickhead's favorite place to escape). He arrived to see Charlie, Rachel and several farmhands gathered by the dairy. Confused he went over to see what was going on. Miles was in a stalemate with Dickhead. He'd herded him back towards the dairy but that was all. The animal would neither go inside the building or in through the open gate to the pasture.
Miles was clearly not as amused as the others were, but he insisted that he'd get him. It was now a matter of pride. Monroe headed inside the house for a few minutes before returning. He had to admit it was nice to see someone else suffer from Dickhead's antics for once. Every time Miles got behind the goat it would make a beeline in another direction. Monroe climbed up and sat on the fence watching him for a while. He had to admit, it was pretty funny. "You've got to get behind him," he called from his vantage point.
"I know that, prick!" Miles snapped as the animal skittered around him and started heading towards the stables. A few minutes later, the goat was heading right back towards the dairy with a very irritated and now muddy Miles chasing after him.
Monroe cracked up. "If you'd stop rolling around in the mud, you'd have better luck!"
Miles growled at him. "It's not mud, it's manure, and I hate you!"
They watched in amusement as Miles stumbled forward. Dickhead took advantage of the situation and doubled back and rammed him right in the ass, sending him sprawling. Monroe winced on his behalf. "That looked like it hurt," he laughed. "Did you try roping him?"
Miles picked himself up off the ground. "Yes I tried roping him," he said in a childishly mocking voice. "He. Bit. Through. The. Rope."
Monroe looked at where Dickhead was picking at the grass in mock docility. Sure enough, there was an extremely short rope dangling from the animal's neck. "Get behind him really slowly," he suggested.
Miles took his suggestion, only to find that the goat was on to this and immediately started to dash off before he could grab the short rope. He charged after him once more. Monroe dug the apple he'd snagged from the kitchen when he'd gone in out of his shirt pocket and took a bite out of the sweet fruit. Watching Miles suffer was hungry work.
"I'm chasing the goat and you're having a snack? God, you're a dick!" Miles snapped as he passed him.
Monroe let out a shrill whistle before taking one last bite. The goat stopped in his tracks, cocking its head to consider him. As he chewed the bite of apple, he waved what was left in front of the goat, taunting it. Slowly Dickhead approached him, his eyes never leaving the treat. Monroe took one last bite and tossed the half-eaten fruit into the pasture. Dickhead trotted after it like he didn't have a care in the world.
Monroe jumped down off the fence and closed the gate before Dickhead had any more bright ideas. "You're an asshole," Miles ground out.
"Yep," he said with a smile as he headed back towards the house.
Miles really wanted to punch him. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"
Monroe turned around and held his hands out as he continued to walk backwards. "To get another apple, stupid. I gave mine to the goat!" he said with a laugh before turning back around and going inside.