Pillow Talk
A month later
Grace opened a can of dog food, placing a knife into it, scooping out half into a metal bowl. Paws bounded as Freud ran towards her. Adam was taking care of loose ends, the woman taking care of her pooch, whilst snorting Freud had her laughing. She knew he'd have jelly on his chin. Grabbing kitchen roll, she chose to skip lunch, heading to the couch, wrapping herself in a blanket, turning on the TV, news switched for a programme about dogs. Her own jumped up, front paws on her knee.
"You aren't licking me after eating. No."
Puppy eyes didn't wash with her, though bright, inquisitive black eyes softened her own. She pat next to her, her friend perking up upon hearing barks. The Miniature Schnauzer shot up, scouting around the room, much to his owner's delight...
Grace fell asleep at some point, sleeping soundly on the couch, blanket tucked under her chin, cushion under her head splayed with hair, colouring it brunette. A hand poked out, not securely under the heat of her sheet. Adam saw this upon returning home, finding the scene adorable. He considered moving the hand, returning it under the cover, then curling his around hers, lacing metal with flesh.
Would it be cold? Would their chill wake her? Adam withdrew, sitting on his haunches.
Grace woke up, partially, her tone gave that away.
Shit...
He went to open his mouth, seeing the same free hand raise its index digit and 'shush' him.
"Firstly," a wisp, ghost of laughter left her, "no need for apologies. Secondly, this isn't my bed, is it?"
Grace moved to stretch. Adam shook his head. She sighed.
"I shouldn't be here."
She looked around, still groggy.
"Is Freud okay?"
Adam nodded this time, gesturing to his bedroom, the pup snuggled on his plush bed.
Speaking of plush...
He was so tired.
"What time is it?"
"Four. You can stay here, its fine."
Grace didn't look at him. She gazed at her hand, stunned at where it was, stunned that Adam didn't move away. If she turned it over, she'd be near his nose. She'd be able to thumb his cheekbone, his jaw.
The woman turned over abruptly onto her back. She huffed, clearly unhappy. This confused the agent, his swirling eyes fixed on hers. Green melted away her worries, yellow, golden flecks calming her somehow.
"They used to be blue, right?"
She whispered that. Adam coughed, unused voice came out hoarse.
"Yeah."
Grace's rogue hand was back, hovering above the cushion.
"Blue is a calming colour, often used in tranquil settings. This is one of those, for me," she clarified, still coherent despite being half asleep, "however, I find your eyes, how they are now unique, they ease my nerves. They appear green, but, when I look into them? I see a melting pot of honey. Is this making any sense, or am I asleep, and this is all in my sleepy noggin?"
Adam kept his chuckle as quiet as possible. Grace turned to him, her chest tight. She'd held her breath for an unknown reason, having to let it out. She inhaled, not getting smoke, or indeed, any vice from the man. This made her smile earnestly. It appeared he wasn't relying off either in order to sleep.
His eyes landed on her hand, fingers naturally curling. He found that cute, an obvious sign of comfort. She was comfortable around him. He felt comfortable around her too.
Two things did cross his mind though.
He wanted to weave his hand through the tangled mess that was Grace's hair, smooth it out. Exercise caution, hands used prior to break things.
Grace would not be broken, not by him or anyone else...
The other thought? How quickly he could ease his fingers between hers. This distressed, and simultaneously strained his mind, pulled at it like someone had their hand in his hair, tugging on his head.
Grace had the same idea, she was equally indecisive on whether or not to act on it. She held out her hand, not daring to look at the man, lest he yank her heart out by bolting, the gesture spooking him.
She didn't want that, anything she could do to keep him there, she would.
Her head whirled, thoughts jumbled, words mumbled.
The ball was in Adam's court now.
If he wanted to serve it? Grace knew her heart would thud in time with the ball hitting the ground, intermingling happiness with wanton worry.
Adam put his hand to hers, tentative, slight touches, his fingers a tad thicker than hers, easily slipping in-between hers. Grace's eyes widened, hazel soothed instantaneous. Her body eased against the couch, no longer needing to feel tense.
"I didn't want you to feel as if you should let me touch you. Sorry."
"You're apologising again."
Adam preempted what the woman was trying to say.
"You don't know what to say, you don't want me to bolt."
Grace nodded, admitting it quickly.
"Here."
He placed his hand above hers, notable size difference warming his cockles.
"Take it, before I leave."
"Leave?" Grace asked, really wanting to indeed, wrap her hand around Adam's. "Its your apartment. If anything, I should leave."
"No, you shouldn't," Adam shook his head, "and I meant to my bedroom, but, I can leave too," he added, cheekily, "if you want."
Grace's shock made him snort.
"NO! Daft sod."
She took the hand, 'discord' fading into nothingness with the simple act of affection.
Looking into honey pools quickly became her favourite things. The angle her head was at had her looking at his chin.
"Didn't know my chin was so riveting."
Grace snorted, not masking it, comfortable enough around the man to know he wouldn't judge.
"Well, you do have stray hairs you've missed. Breaks the pattern a smidgen. Want me to shave it? I could, this angle is perfect, perpendicular even."
Adam, clearly amused lowered his head.
"You, with something sharp against my throat?"
Grace nodded, though the man could see gears were turning in her mind. She wondered what he was up to.
"You think I'd cut it here? I'd get covered! I'm sure we both know how hard it is to get blood out of clothing. Stubborn fluid."
Adam laughed aloud, her reference to blood charming, simultaneously reminding him of terrible things.
Grace took the sting away from those memories. She removed the barbs, extracting them, accuracy considerably spot on.
"That," he paused, "now there's a thought."
Grace knew where that vein travelled.
"Me, lying down, covered in fluid. Classy," she squeezed his hand, Adam's pleased features prominent at feeling it, "really."
She feigned princess, sighing hopefully, looking up at the ceiling, free hand on her forehead.
"Whatever would I do without you? I'd wilt and perish, I would."
Her impishness perished with movement of Adam's head. He lowered it again, this time further than before.
"A part of me, buried deep in my subconscious is reading you," she pointed to the two of them, "reading this as potentially something wonderful."
"Potentially?"
A worried brow raised. Grace followed up.
"It wants what I think you want, but if I am wrong? Hence why I used the word..."
Adam shushed her, shaking his head defiantly.
"Would I be here, in this position," he inched further down for effect, "if I didn't want to be? No. And you know that. Don't doubt yourself."
The woman processed that.
"..."
Nothing.
"..."
Grace tilted her head.
"Should I just move up, or..."
Adam answered her, leaving her ever so happy to have been wrong.
"Hmmm? Oh! I said I'd call my Dad today!"
"So he can tell me to back away from his daughter?"
Grace laughed.
"Not at all. He's a great man, protective over me, but knows he shouldn't pry. I can handle myself."
She looked at the screen, then Adam.
"Not like this though. I reckon he'd have something to say about this..."
She closed her eyes, dialling her Father's number.
"If you want to run, now's the time, sweetie."
Adam shook his head, mischievously scanning her over, still tangled up in the blanket, but sat up this time.
"Never." He winked. "Take out?"
Grace nodded, her companion revelling in her glowing pink face...
"Afternoon Dad."
Gregory's greying beard was the primary thing Adam saw, from his vantage point. Grace's primarily saw his baffled expression. Both chuckled.
"Afternoon Gracie."
His daughter, wide eyed scrunched the blanket, little fists balled. Adam was in the kitchen, using a cloth to deal with heaving laughter, causing chest palpitations. Grace narrowed her eyes at him, letting herself grow annoyed for a millisecond.
"Dear Daddy," she began, "whilst I love and adore you, I am not a toddler any more."
The older man's tone rumbled, his voice reminding Adam of Bob Hope's, a tad less terse.
"Yes. Remind me how old I am, why don't you? Charming that, bloody charming."
Adam failed to hold it in any longer. He spluttered, coughing, spit flying over the drainer.
"So, where is this 'Adam?' He sounds like he's behind me..."
He actually turned.
"He is, kind of. You aren't old, Dad, you are vintage."
Gregory chuckled, patting his chest.
"Of course I am! Don't worry, Adam."
Adam popped his head around the door frame.
"Not about to growl at you, profanity spew, ruing the day you met my daughter. She is, however, my only child, so I do hope, and believe that you will treat her how she should be treated. Grace can handle herself, I won't intervene, stick my nose in. Its a little large for that."
The younger bit his lip, stifling bursts, fits of amusement.
"I will, I have no intention of being anything other than respectable."
He gave the older a resolute head nod.
"Its good to meet you, the man who taught Grace to be a wonderful human being."
Grace blushed, picking up a cushion, readying it to throw, despite being a terrible shot.
"Adam, please. My Father is right there. He is a gent, Dad, not Mr Darcy, but you know I wouldn't behave like this, were I unsure."
Gregory agreed, but thumbed his beard, eyes crinkling.
"I won't quiz, pry. My feeling is that as long as the two of you are honest, true, I see no issue."
"Did Grace say anything about me to you?"
Both Fielding's vehemently said no.
"Only your name."
"Patient confidentiality."
"I'm not your patient."
Grace shrugged.
"Something, something confidentiality?"
Gregory pursed his lips.
"Relationship, Gracie."
Grace gasped.
"Dad!"
Adam snorted.
"That's the word, isn't it?"
He looked at both parties.
"It is not?" His amusement diminished fast. "Ah. See? I inquire when I said I wouldn't."
"Dad..."
Adam filled in the blanks for her.
"Mr Fielding."
The elder corrected.
"Gregory, please."
"Gregory. Your daughter and I aren't entirely sure if we are a we?"
Grace added an addendum.
"We are a we, in the sense that we are in the same room, same apartment, we share similar likes, dislikes and such."
Her Father's quizzical mahogany eyes mused.
"You're speaking as Doctor Grace, to your own Father? I'm positively offended."
"And there was me, going for earnest..."
His daughter rolled her eyes, playfulness evident on features. She faced Adam, he walked around, sitting on the arm of the couch.
"Adam." She asked coolly. "I think I can say, with clarity, as clear as day that I would like to be an us. However, that is a large ask, not said freely, thoughtlessly. That's my answer, my side of the coin, Dad."
Gregory took that.
"Well, whatever may be, I sincerely wish the two of you elation."
Grace showed her jocose side.
"Now you sound like the Doctor..."
"Grace, sweetheart. I dislike specialist speak. Can't you speak as my daughter?"
"I care, Dad. Resolute, I know where I stand. I wish for Adam to stand beside me, it is his choice whether too or not. I am willing to give him all the time and space he needs."
Gregory backtracked.
"Hold on. Didn't you say you were in the same apartment? Same room? This is your apartment in Prague, no?"
Grace shook her head.
"Adam's then. So, you moved in together? Surely if not a 'we,' than a kind of 'us?'"
Adam, quiescent until now struck up a conversation.
"I've done a lot of thinking about this. I've run from much in my life. Whenever I've had anything good, its been taken away. My choice didn't matter, my opinion wasn't listened too. Grace always gave me a choice, she listened to all, the worst of the worst, the heinous sides of the world, the rusted side of the coin no one saw, unless they dared to look beneath the surface. Your daughter did. What I struggle with is seeing myself as something other than the rusted side of the coin, whilst she is shining, new. She's come through all of it still sparkling. I came out tarnished."
Grace bit her gum, welling up.
"Do you think that's what I see? Jesus, Adam. Fucking 'clank?'"
Adam found himself in veneration of this woman, one capable of challenging everything he thought he knew.
"I understand you may not view what I view, may never fully take in my words, but, please, listen."
She sucked in a breath.
"What I see is someone witty, brilliant, mind as sharp as a pin, tactile, reliable, authentic, always yourself, regardless of the situation. Ingenuous, quite the connoisseur of black clothing, well meaning, notably well groomed, that's a big plus. Can't stand straggly hairs, and unkempt is a big no no."
She chuckled. "Able to diffuse more than belligerent, opinionated people, so that means nimble. Dad? That's your cue to stop listening."
Gregory reached for a cloth, wiping away tears, his daughter pulling at his heartstrings, the man thinking of his wife, how he was with her.
"Not a problem, sweetheart. I love you."
"I love you too, Dad. Thank you, for everything. I'll come see you soon."
She looked at Adam, ending the call.
"That goes for you too, Mister Man in Black. Totally not a 'clank,' although, if I hear any automaton noises, you know where I am going. Straight to the toolbox."
Adam pulled her close, her words, the meaning behind them everything. His everything.
He kissed her with his everything, without exception.