A.N. A billion apologies for the lateness! Vacations and summer work and such like are terrible evils that try to prevent me from writing. Thanks to Lauren, my beta, and double thanks to all you beautiful people who read this... Your feedback is wonderful, and i love you guys muchly!
Ps. how would you guys feel if the rating went up slightly?
"You're an idiot."
"You got yourself shot in the arm!"
A smile played on Irene's lips. "And you're overprotective."
"I am not!" Molly cried.
Irene quirked an eyebrow. "You didn't want to get the car because you'd have to leave me alone for ten minutes."
"That's what made sense. There are people trying to kill us, Irene."
"I was in a hospital. There's no danger there. And I don't need to be babied."
"It doesn't matter," Molly huffed.
"Oh, are you pouting?" Molly remained resolutely silent. "You are, aren't you?"
Molly took a risk and glanced at Irene out of the corner of her eye. The woman was outright grinning, as if she took some sort of sick pleasure in teasing Molly. Disgusting. Molly glared forward at the road and tried not to let her matching grin escape onto her face.
They pulled up in front of the motel. "D'you want to stay in the car?" Molly asked, as innocently as possible. Irene glared at her. "I'll just pop in and pack up our stuff, I wouldn't want you to injure your arm..."
Irene sniffed haughtily and opened the door with her free arm. "Of courseI'm coming."
"Oh, don't worry, I really won't pressure you to do anything, I'll just-" Her taunt was cut off the moment she pushed the door open. The room was completely trashed, their clothes and things thrown haphazardly all over the floor, their bedsheets tangled, the curtains flung open. Molly gaped.
"That's a bit of a mess," Irene cooed over her shoulder. Molly resisted the urge to kick her.
"Look for the box!" She told Irene as she dove into the chaos, creating even more clutter as she searched for the package Sherlock had entrusted to them.
"I thought you didn't want me to hurt my arm."
"Irene!"
"Fine. Here." Molly looked up and Irene was holding the package out to her.
"Where..."
"Under the bed. As I left it."
"The bed?" Molly puzzled. "Wouldn't they have found it?"
"Clearly, no one was looking for it... it must have been something else."
Molly pondered this, kneeling back on a pile of clothes. What else could anyone possibly want from them?
"Did we pack anything else valuable?"
Irene shrugged. "That's a relative term."
Molly let her head droop and ran a tired hand through her tangled hair. She hadn't gotten much sleep since Irene's hospitalization, and it was beginning to wear her down.
Unfortunately, this position gave her a magnificent view of what exactly she was sitting on. She jumped up with a yelp.
"Th-th-those are notmine," she stammered. Nothing she owned was that lacy or revealing.
"Ah," said Irene matter-of-factly. "I was looking for those."
Molly sunk down onto the bed. "God, I need to sleep," she muttered.
"Do you want me to drive?" Irene suggested.
"Nah, I'll be fine."
Irene smiled, as if laughing at some private joke. "You don't trust me, do you?"
"Oh! No, I mean, yes, I mean, oh gosh, of courseI trust you! I just wouldn't want to impose-"
"Really, it'd be nothing."
"You need to sleep too," Molly insisted. "You're still healing, remember?"
"Fine," Irene agreed, and then laughed. "Good, actually, I haven't driven in years. I wonder if I still know how."
They packed up their things as quickly as possible, taking inventory as they went. All that was missing was one of Irene's necklaces, and according to her, not a very important one.
"Oh, it doesn't matter," she drawled, dismissing Molly's concern with a wave of her hand. "Just a silly sentimental thing. I really don't need it. It was a gift, that's all."
When she thought Molly wasn't looking, Molly spied some hints of worry on her- creases in her forehead, her smile evaporated from her face- but they disappeared in an instant, and Irene beamed at her. "Shall we get going, then?"
They drove for miles without saying anything. Molly tried turning on the radio, but all that was playing (that was in her language, at least) was sappy love songs, which she decided she really didn't need to hear. Especially not next to Irene.
Unfortunately, for Irene they seemed to trigger conversation.
"So, about what you said just before I got shot-" Irene began.
"Oh no," Molly groaned. "Look, please, can we just forget-"
"You said you loved me." It wasn't a question.
Molly hesitated, weighing her options. "Yes," she said finally, "but-"
And Irene looked at her with wide, honest eyes and asked, "Why?"
Molly blinked and mumbled, "I don't know," and stared hard at the road, as if her gaze could cause her to sink into the concrete and disappear. It didn't work.
Luckily, Irene didn't press her. They rode the rest of the way to the next motel (this time, on the border between Poland and Belarus) in silence: Molly glancing between the road and her passenger, and the latter staring out the window, watching the scenery flash by. The silence felt like a blanket of awkwardness suffocating the inhabitants of the car, but Molly didn't know what else to say. She could tell that she'd messed up, but not how to fix it. Dealing with Irene was not like dealing with anybody else Molly knew. She was so used to second-guessing herself that the thought of opening up to someone seemed impossibly foreign. So instead she drove on, watching the sky fade into night and wishing she knew what to do.
This new motel room was small and cold, with only a thin blanket and shabby comforter to provide any semblance of warmth. Irene surveyed the situation with a calculating glare. Pretending to put away clothes, Molly peeked out and noticed how deeply her brow was furrowed in concentration. It was kind of adorable, a word she never thought she'd be able to apply to Irene.
"We could call and ask for more blankets," Irene recited from the list of possible solutions in her head. "We could wear extra layers, we could ask them to turn up the heat-," she looked up and her frown deepened, "we could shut that window..."
"It's stuck," Molly informed her.
Irene sighed. "Of course it is."
"We could huddle together for warmth?" Molly joked. Irene looked totally disarmed, like a deer in headlights.
"What?"
"You know, cuddle or whatever...?" Molly explained meekly.
Irene seemed to actually consider the suggestion. "Well, I suppose through our combined body heat... that could work. How do you propose we try it?"
Molly gaped. "Sorry?"
Irene looked vaguely uncomfortable. It was an odd look for her. "I don't have much experience in this area."
"You've never cuddled before?" Molly asked, incredulous.
"I've never had occasion," Irene sniffed.
"I just figured, with your work and, you know, things..."
"My clients don't come to me for comfort," Irene responded coolly.
"Right. Well then, okay. Let me teach you how to cuddle." Molly flashed her a nervous smile.
For someone with little to no experience, Irene had a remarkably good instinct when it came to the subject, and was a wonderfully fast learner. Naturally, there were a few terribly awkward moments where hands went where they shouldn't have gone, but in the end, they were snuggled together quite happily on the bed, legs intertwined, Molly's back pressed against Irene's chest and Irene's arms wrapped around her.
"Is this okay?" Molly asked.
"It's lovely," Irene breathed into her ear. "I can feel your heart beating," she added playfully.
"I know." Molly felt slightly giddy.
For a minute they just rested in that position, Irene leaning her face into Molly's neck and Molly pulling Irene tighter around her (carefully, though, because of her arm). Then Molly shifted and twisted round until she was facing Irene.
"It's true," she whispered in the dark.
"Hmm?"
"I love you," she started, and pressed a finger to Irene's lips before she could open her mouth. "I do. I love you because you're brash and spontaneous and yet sweet under everything. I love you because you're beautiful-not that it really matters-and brilliant. I love you because you can smile without moving your mouth at all, because you laugh at my jokes, because you bother to look up at the stars at night, because you try to pretend you're invincible but sometimes I still get to see you vulnerable and because... you're you. And I love you that way."
She took in a deep breath. She was sick of hiding, of secrets, of pink sparkly diaries filled with untold confessions. In the past that had gotten her nothing, except maybe a broken heart. All cards on the table, she told herself. For one time in her life, Molly took a risk, and was 100 percent open about how she felt.
And it was met with silence.
Silence, and then:
"Every time I fall in love I get hurt. And everyone who falls in love with me ends up hurt too, somehow."
Molly let out the breath she'd been holding. This she could deal with. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"I always end up hurt anyhow."
"But..." Irene seemed to be struggling for the right words. "I don't want that to happen to you. You're not like the others."
"Oh. So… is that a no?"
Irene laughed softly. "No. But it's not a yes."
"If it's any help, I'm really scared too."
"I'm not scared." But Irene wouldn't meet Molly's gaze, and Molly knew it was a lie.
"Sometimes things take risks and I know it's terrifying. But I love you, and if you're ever ready, I think I'm willing to take that risk. Just, um. Just so you know."
When Irene didn't respond, Molly buried her face in the crook of Irene's neck, breathing in the scent of her perfume and the warmth rising from her skin. She couldn't think of anything else to say Instead she just held onto Irene, and together, huddled under a thin comforter and with the twinkling light of the stars streaming in through the open window, they fell asleep.