REVAMPED AS OF APRIL 2014
For old readers, I highly encourage you to start this story from the beginning, since as of this update, it has been almost completely rewritten. Chapter 01 contains a more extensive author's note.
One thing that Mort and Carmen had come to appreciate about one another was that neither felt compelled to try and monopolize all of the other's time. Sure, they happened to spend the vast majority of their time together, but they also recognized and valued their time apart to work, the way both knew they had to. Once in a while, they would jokingly declare work binges, days where they would simply sit in their own respective houses, not bother one another, and simply get things done. The arrangement turned out to work out well from time to time, as it allowed them both to be productive, and frankly made for much more enthusiasm about being intimate after a few days of little to no contact.
Today, as it turned out, was the last evening of a work binge, and Carmen had finally finished looking over a file full of event sponsorship requests that Rob had sent her – it had been a recent idea of his to start expanding A-List's business ventures and sponsor local arts and entertainment events. New York City had no shortage of artists, so when the opportunity opened up, the requests came flooding in so heavily that Rob required a fair amount of backup just to sort out the viable requests from the total wastes of time. While Rob's personal calls to Carmen had decreased slightly since he had started getting slightly more serious about dating Melanie Carter, his calls for work remained steady - Carmen had long accepted that she was more working from home than taking a hiatus.
Carmen fell asleep in her usual spot on the sofa bed, knowing her eyes were killing her from staring at the screen so much – shut-eye was probably the best feeling she could have experienced right now, and if Mort had gotten much work done over the past few days, she was sure he would feel the same way. She dozed off quickly.
However, the sound of the door opening at about midnight caused Carmen to stir, and she saw a figure walk in the front door – she gave a small sigh of relief when she realized that it was just Mort.
"Couldn't wait?" she asked sleepily, laughing quietly as he walked in and sat in an armchair by the sofa bed. Mort, however didn't answer. He simply reached over to the clock radio on the side table and flicked it until it landed on a station that Carmen never listened to – an old country song that she recognized vaguely, though she didn't know from where.
Don't rob another man's castle, don't take his treasures away… strange as it seems when you steal a man's dreams, you'll never know then how you'll pay…
"Go back t'sleep," Mort said in a low voice that didn't sound quite like him – he sounded gruff, perhaps tired. Carmen, still exhausted and unable to identify what exactly Mort sounded like, rolled over to her other side and complied, resolving to just ask Mort about it in the morning.
When Carmen managed to wake up again, however, it was about ten in the morning, her clock radio was still turned on and set to the same station, and Mort was nowhere to be seen. It was a rather unprecedented event, but Carmen decided to try and ignore it. Mort admittedly had his own strange habits when he got too entrenched in his writing, and Carmen was more than willing to chalk it up to a bout of writer's block. So, she showered, got dressed, and drove over to Mort's place the way she usually did after a work binge.
When she pulled up in front of his house, however, she frowned slightly at the sight of the front door open. She hurried out of the car and up the porch steps to peer inside – a sigh of relief escaped her lips when she saw that Mort was sound asleep on the couch.
She walked inside and gently closed the front door behind her, sitting down carefully on the coffee table in front of where Mort was sleeping and reaching a hand out to gently shake his shoulder. "Mort," she said softly.
He groaned sleepily, swatting his hand in Carmen's general direction and reaching out towards the coffee table. Knowing what he was looking for, Carmen picked up his glasses and slipped them onto his face. He opened his eyes and blinked a few times to adjust to the light before finally smiling up at the sight of his fiancée.
"Hey, you," he chuckled with a yawn, sitting up and stretched. "I missed you."
Carmen froze, the small frown returning to her face and subsequently, onto Mort's as well. "You… missed me? You were just over last night," she chuckled, shaking her head. "You remember? You were sitting in the old red chair, you turned on the radio? To that station with the oldies that they always play inside Bowie's store?"
"Yeah, you hate that station, I remember. I hate that station," Mort pointed out, raising his eyebrows. "I was asleep all night, maybe you were dreaming."
"The radio was still on when I woke up – same station and everything," Carmen insisted. For a brief moment, it was like a shock ran through the pair of them at the exact same time when their eyes met, and both could tell that the other was thinking the exact same thing: it was never a good sign when someone claimed to have seen Mort, and Mort claimed to have slept through the entire night.
But it was impossible for it to be the same thing. Impossible.
"You know, maybe you're right - I might have just knocked the radio in my sleep and made up some crazy dream to go along with it. That creepy country music stuff probably just tripped me out," Carmen began rambling abruptly, and the fact that Carmen was uncomfortable didn't make Mort feel any better. He exhaled deeply and ran his hands through his hair. Carmen shifted so that she was sitting on the couch next to him. "It's not that, okay?" she insisted. "We've been good for almost three months. We probably just overdid this work binge and mucked up our sleep cycles. It happens, I've done it," she continued. Mort couldn't help but laugh a little in spite of himself at how hard she tried to make him smile. She was really something else.
She was something else, and if old issues were rearing their ugly head again... he could hurt her again. Mort found he could no longer maintain a smile when the thought crossed his mind, and observant as ever, Carmen reached out to give his hand a gentle squeeze.
"Hey," she said, leaning over to make sure she was fully in his line of sight. "It's not that, okay? It was probably me. I shouldn't have said anything," Carmen reasoned, though a part of her wasn't sure she believed it any more than Mort seemed to. He shook his head.
"When things happen, it's never you," he said. "It's never been you -"
"That was before -"
"You act like it was that long ago!" Mort said in exasperation, raising his voice slightly. He felt immediately guilty when he realized that Carmen had flinched at his sudden change in tone, and he reached out apologetically for her hand again. She didn't deserve this - she'd been amazing about drawing him out of the hole he'd hidden himself away in since the divorce. When he felt Carmen's hand relax into his, he let out a sigh of relief and resolved to make this as normal as possible. Carmen deserved normal, he decided.
"I'm sorry - you know, you're probably right. We're both sleep-deprived, and cranky, and in need of a little -"
His voice hitched when suddenly, Carmen's hand was grazing up his thigh, and she grinned mischievously - a rare event for her. She was a lot of things, but a minx wasn't one of them. She gently tilted her head to one side so that her hair fell gently around her face. "A little what?"
"Breakfast."
"Mort!" Carmen laughed, groaning in feigned agony and throwing herself dramatically backwards on this couch. Mort grinned, laughing as well and scooted over so that he was hovering over her, one hand braced on the armrest she was resting her head on and the other gently tracing her waist. He leaned over, bringing his face close to hers and cocking his head to one side.
"Well, what did you want me to say?" Mort asked, raising an eyebrow and feigning seriousness - he didn't last long when Carmen's face puckered slightly into a pout. She always refused to say. He found it endearing, actually, that when it came to talking about being intimate, she was so reserved - Carmen, who had braved a car accident, dug up a dead body, lied to law enforcement, and practically performed an exorcism within the span of a few weeks, couldn't talk about sex. He chuckled before leaning forward and nuzzling her neck. "I will make you..."
He paused and did his best not to laugh at the way her petite form tensed underneath him, inhaling sharply.
"... the best French toast you have ever had."
"You're the worst!" Carmen laughed, playfully pushing her off of him. It was moments like this that Mort really felt being with someone younger than him - someone like Carmen - was the most right thing he could have done. Even in his mid-thirties, he never felt like he had learned to take himself seriously as an adult. Amy had told him many times - mostly before he had become really successful - that his aspirations of making a living off of his writing were misguided and immature. He was a self-made man, and Carmen was a self-made woman. She'd started a magazine with her college best friends, for crying out loud. These moments when they were simply playful without any sense of condescension or toleration - the way Carmen leapt off of the couch and tromped off to the kitchen in a play-tantrum for Mort's teasing - just convinced him even more that this was right.
After a few moments, Mort got up and followed Carmen and approached her from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist as she was pouring herself a glass of water. He grazed his lips over the side of her neck, just below her ear, and smiled at the way her body relaxed against his. "I was kidding. I know you won't say it -"
"I'll say it," Carmen said breathily, tilting her head for better access. This came as a surprise to Mort, but an absolutely welcome one. "I want..."
"Yeah?"
Carmen put down the pitcher of water, hooking the tips of her index fingers gently into the waist of his pajama pants, gently tugging him closer so his hips were flush against hers. He dipped his head down to kiss her, but she gently avoided his lips, resting her forehead against his so that there was just enough space between their faces for her to finish her statement.
"Scrambled eggs."
Mort jumped away slightly and threw his head back with a groan of exasperation as Carmen burst out laughing as well, leaning back against the counter and clapping her hand over her mouth. "I'm telling you, I give as good as I get," she shrugged innocently. At the unintentional double-entendre, however, Mort paused and raised an eyebrow.
"Babe - I know you do."
At that point, the thought of breakfast was finally cast aside while they sated another need, right there on the kitchen counter - and again back on the sofa. Once they were finally laying calmly in one another's arms using Mort's robe as a makeshift blanket, Mort suddenly remembered something he had been meaning to mention.
"Give me one minute," he said, getting up and pulling his pajama pants back on. "I got something that I want to show you."
Carmen looked slightly confused while she tried taming her now badly-tousled hair and Mort hurried upstairs. He quickly reappeared, holding something in his hands. "That's a new robe," Carmen laughed in realization. "Is that - for me? Are we supposed to be matching or something?"
"Oh, no, this is for me," Mort laughed, slipping it onto his shoulders.
"Then what are you showing me for?" Carmen asked with a questioning grin.
"Well," Mort said, sitting back down on the sofa next to her. "I just decided that it's time to get rid of that one - because that's old Mort's robe. It's finally time."
The meaning behind the decision to swap out his robe wasn't lost on Carmen, whose expression went from laughter to a deeply thoughtful smile. She leaned over and placed a soft kiss on his lips. "Can I put some clothes on before you get rid of this old one then?" she joked gently.
"I don't know, do you have to?"
"Yes. It's freezing."
She reached over and pulled the shirt she had arrived in from where it had been discarded on the floor - she pulled it on and let the old robe fall to the floor, nestling into Mort's side calmly. "In with the new," she smiled. And Mort hoped that was the case. He really hoped so.