Author's Notes: Sometimes, writing feels like walking across the Grand Canyon on a high wire without a safety net. One false step either side and this story comes crashing down.

Otis being who he is, there are elements to his story that need delicate handling and it is easy to make that one step either side of the wire. (I've come close to publishing complete rubbish a few times.)

I hope I've managed to keep my feet straight and this isn't the chapter that goes splat.

(Even though I don't respond individually, I really do appreciate your feedback and kudos. They help calm my nerves as I progress further across that Canyon.)


Chapter 10

Maeve slowly pushed open the door to Otis' room, bit her lip and stepped inside. She looked around – at his posters on the walls, his shelves containing his books and records, his desk – and smiled approvingly, sensing – hoping – this would turn out to be a place she would become intimately familiar with.

She looked at the photos stuck to the posts and smiled at the one of Otis and Eric. He was wearing his jacket and she had become so used to seeing him in it that on those days when he wasn't wearing it she often felt that he was coming to school naked.

She walked around the room, noticing the broken closet, idly running her fingers over nearby surfaces, glancing at his massive music collection as she passed it, wondering how he kept track of it all and how easy it would be to find something they could slow dance to.

When she reached his desk, she saw his biology textbook and noticed the drawing from that day in class sticking out. She took the drawing from the book and looked at it and saw Otis had written their names on it and circled them and she smiled. She bit her lip, looked around, saw a pen and picked it up.

When she had finished making adjustments, she replaced the pen and put the drawing on top of the biology textbook, wondering how long it would take for him to notice.

She glanced around the room again then slowly walked over to his bed and wondered if this would be the place where they would finally have sex. Not tonight, of course. Tonight was for hugging and kissing and holding hands and maybe, just maybe, a little slow-dancing. But someday.

She hesitated a moment then lay on the bed on her side and pressed her face against his pillows, smelling him on them, wondering if she had time to recreate last-night-with-his-jumper only in a much happier place of saying little hellos instead of a sad goodbye and then she smiled at the thought of Otis' reaction if he walked into his room to find his new girlfriend lying on his bed, skirt hiked up and hand down her pants and her nose buried in his pillows.

She couldn't do that to the poor muppet, but tonight, when she got home, she would have so much new material for dreaming to.

She wondered how often he had dreamt of her being here and what they did when they were.

When she heard his approaching footsteps, she rolled onto her back and shuffled to lean back against the headboard and straightened her skirt slightly and crossed her legs at the ankles and looked toward the door with an inviting gaze.

Otis stepped through the doorway and stopped as he saw her and his breath stole quietly away from him.

"Hello, boyfriend," Maeve almost purred.

Otis took only a moment to recover. He swallowed and smiled at her then glanced down at her feet. "You're still here. Both shoes still on. Change your mind?"

"Thought about it. But I looked out the window and realised I'd break my neck climbing out there. So you're stuck with me."

"Terrible hardship," he murmured.

"Suck it up, muppet," she murmured in return.

Otis turned to close the door and said, "Sorry I took so long. Mum forgot to put the leftovers in the fridge again."

He took a slow deep breath and turned back to her and was puzzled to see her staring at him, lips pursed and clearly pondering something.

"What?" he asked.

"Just wondering if that counts as apologising for being you."

"It's social etiquette to apologise for keeping someone waiting," Otis protested. "That's not apologising for being myself."

"I don't know, Milburn. You've been known to confuse a girl with your words. Maybe I better start taking things off just to be on the safe side."

Maeve swung her legs off the bed and stood up, beginning to take her jacket off.

"Maeve…" he stammered. "How… this… if you keep changing the rules, how am I supposed to—"

She glanced back at him, smiling, eyes glittering. "I'm just warm, Otis. That's all."

"Oh, jeez," Otis sighed, relaxing and shaking his head then his eyes glanced at the window." Oh, no wonder."

He started walking to the window above his desk as Maeve struggled out of her jacket.

"I closed the window last night because there were a couple of cats having sex just outside," he said. "You won't believe how that noise carries from down there."

Maeve smiled as she finished removing her jacket and draped it across the top of his dresser as Otis leaned over and opened the window to let some fresher air in. She noticed the sleeves of his jumper were now bunched over her hands and she began rolling them up out of the way.

"You can't get away from it, can you, muppet?" she said.

"Especially when my girlfriend won't let me," Otis muttered.

"Anybody would think you didn't want to see me naked," Maeve smirked.

Otis glanced quickly at her and quickly away and Maeve knew that certainly wasn't true and she only wished he could accept it as a normal desire. But. Slowly.

"Just say your safe word, Otis," she said softly, "and I'll settle down."

Otis dropped his head and was about to say something when he noticed the drawing sitting on top of his textbook and frowned. He picked it up, studied it and smiled, turning to Maeve who was watching him with glittering eyes and a shining smile.

"You really are getting soft, Maeve," he said. "A heart with an arrow through it?'

Maeve shrugged, still smiling.

Otis gazed at her with shining eyes.

"By the way, I did know where the hymen was," she said. "I just wanted to see you be embarrassed again."

"You're a cruel person, Maeve," he said, shaking his head, smiling.

"But I didn't know the name of the paraurethral glands, though. That was impressive."

Otis put the drawing down and walked across to her, chuckling softly to himself. His arms opened and she stepped into them.

"You really are going to be the death of me, Maeve Wiley," he said.

"I'll give you the kiss of life. Bring you back," she murmured and raised her head to meet his lips and she noticed he was again not quite as comfortable in his own skin as he was by the road outside his home or on their bench – or even, she now realised, when she kissed him for the gift and kissed him for the letter. Not quite as comfortable but still an amazing kisser.

"Y'know, Otis," Maeve began when their lips parted. "You watched a lot of rom-coms and you're an amazing kisser. You say you watch a lot of cooking shows and your mum says you're a really good cook. You think we should check out some porn when the time comes?"

Otis shook in startlement and released her and jumped back and refused to look at her. "Maeve," he said. "Okay. Flamingo."

Maeve pressed her lips together and looked up at him. "Sorry," she said softly and her lips almost didn't move.

"No," Otis breathed deeply and said, shaking his head, annoyed with himself. "You're just being you and I like you being you. You're behaving like all the other times we've been messing around and you've been teasing me – it's just now you're teasing me on a sexual level and you weren't before."

Maeve swallowed and took a deep breath and said gently, "I'm sorry, Otis. I'm in a giddy mood, but I promised, take it slowly. I'll settle down, take it slowly." She paused, blinked a few times. "I love you, Otis. I don't want to make things harder for you."

Otis paused, nodded, took another deep breath and looked into her eyes and was about to say something when he glanced at the bed and had a thought. "Do you want… do you want to lie on the bed and talk? I mean, just talk."

She nodded. "Yeah," she said softly.

He nodded, took her hand gently and walked over to the bed with her then released her hand and clambered onto the bed, scooting over to the far side.

Maeve sat on the edge of the bed and said, "Let me just take my feet off first."

Otis frowned as he watched her lean over and reach down then he realised she was taking off her shoes and he glanced down at his own feet.

"Oh, yeah," he said and swung his legs off the bed and sat up and reached down to remove his own shoes.

When they were in his hand he turned to Maeve and reached out his other hand and said, "Here give me them and I'll put them over there."

Maeve reached down and grabbed her shoes and helped Otis take them. "There you go, Prince Charming."

Otis smiled and stood and carried the shoes over to the broken closet. Behind him, Maeve lay back on the bed and rolled over and watched him as he returned to the bed, lay down on his side directly opposite her and looked into her eyes.

She breathed slowly and wanted to ask about the closet but kept silent and waited for him to speak.

Otis gazed adoringly at her. "I love the mood you're in, Maeve. Don't stop."

"But if it's making things difficult for you…" she murmured.

"I said my safe word, you backed off."

She moved the hand laying on the bed and her fingers found his and she clasped them and he clasped back.

"So what does slowly mean for you?" she asked.

Otis breathed slowly a few times before answering. "This," he said.

"Then let's just do this," Maeve murmured, smiling at him.

After a moment, Otis murmured, "Lily didn't like it."

"I'm not Lily," Maeve replied.

Otis smiled, squeezed her hand gently then they simply gazed into each other's eyes for a while.

"Do you mind if I ask what you did with Lily when you brought her back here?" Maeve asked, cautiously.

"You can ask," said Otis.

Maeve waited and waited and then smiled and shook her head and snorted a chuckle and asked, "What did you do with Lily when you brought her back here?"

Otis grinned. "We sat on the end of the bed. That's when the shark attack happened. That's when I told her I needed a safe word and I needed to take things slowly."

"She just wanted to get on with it?"

"Yeah."

Maeve jiggled his hand a little. "I like this, Otis. This is nice."

Otis nodded.

"What next?" Maeve asked.

"She wanted to put on some music. Set the mood."

"What music did you put on?"

"Whale song," he admitted, sheepishly.

"What?"

"It was next to go. I use it to go to sleep. It's very relaxing."

"Not really conducive to boning, though."

"No," he agreed, smiling slightly.

"What else did you put on?"

"Just some soft jazz."

"Sounds nice."

"Then she started talking about seven foot whale penises and drowning in their…" he hesitated. "Cum," he forced himself to say, glancing at the space behind Maeve.

"Okay, that would have turned me right off," said Maeve, scrunching her face.

Otis looked back at her. "I wasn't exactly raring to go for it, anyway."

"So what prompted you to try at that point?" she asked, softly.

Otis glanced down, eyes settling on their entwined fingers.

Maeve squeezed his hand gently. "You don't have to tell me anything, honey, if you don't want to," she said.

Otis grimaced and raised his eyebrows as he looked at her. "'Honey'?"

She smiled ruefully. "Yeah, I'm not gonna use that one again."

"I like when you call me muppet," Otis said. "I wish I could come up with a good name for you. 'Diamond'?"

Maeve shook her head quickly. "When you said that, you made me feel really special. If you keep using it, it won't be special. I like how you say 'Maeve'."

Otis nodded, gave her a small smile and their eyes caressed each other for a while.

"It was dad," Otis eventually said. "No, it wasn't. It was me, but…"

Maeve hated seeing the distress in his eyes and gently stroked his fingers with her thumb.

"Do you think it's flamingo time, Otis," she said gently.

After a moment, he nodded and took a deep breath. "So what do you want to talk about, Maeve?"

Maeve smiled fondly at him then glanced across the room. "You have a huge music collection."

"That's just mum and dad's LPs. CDs are down in the cupboard over there and then there's the stuff on my phone."

"How do you keep track of it all?"

"I've got an app. Title, artist, tracknames. Nothing fancy."

"Got anything we could slow dance to?"

Otis looked at her in surprise.

"Would you like to dance?" she asked, hopefully.

"I'd love to dance," he said, grinning, mood rising and rolled over and sat up and reached for his phone. "I can't really dance but… you'll just have to put up with it."

He started searching through the music on his phone. "Any preference?" he asked.

"Something romantic," Maeve said, rising and curling her legs under her on the bed.

"Fifties? Sixties? Seventies? Eighties? Nineties? Noughties?"

"Not in the mood for the naughties at the moment," she said, smiling as he glanced back at her, grimacing at what he assumed was a deliberate pun.

"Okay, just tell me if you don't like this," Otis said and put the phone down, plugging it into the speakers he had set up. "It'll take a moment to buffer."

He stood up and held his hand out to Maeve. Grinning, she clambered off the bed and took his hand and stepped in closer. His arm encircled her waist and her arm curled across his shoulders.

"Actually, you're probably going to have to lead," Otis said. "Eric always leads so I'm not used to it."

"Okay," Maeve said, smiling as they adjusted position and then his chosen first song began playing and they slowly began dancing, gazing into each other's eyes, smiling fondly at each other.

Oh

Now I don't hardly know her

But I think I could love her

"I've got a few lined up after this," Otis said.

"Shhhh," said Maeve.

Ah

I wish she'd come walking over

Now I've been waiting to show her

"It's not like I have a romantic song playlist or anything," Otis said.

"Shhhh," said Maeve.

The first break began playing.

"Okay, this bit isn't really slow dancing music," said Otis.

"Otis, I didn't ask for a running commentary," said Maeve.


Music was still blasting out of the speakers and it was obvious to anyone within earshot they had moved beyond slow-dancing. Tommy James had evolved through the course of an incredibly eclectic playlist containing The Who and Ezra Furman and Slotface and Dylan and Bikini Kill and The Troggs and Hole and more than either Maeve or Otis could remember and now Billy Idol was their guest of honour.

Otis was doing his version of head-banging and playing air guitar and Maeve watched him be cute as she performed her own version of The Twist, arms held out in front of her moving as if she were manually turning the pedals of an upturned bike, singing along with Billy. Otis' jumper had been discarded on a chair and beneath it had been the only vaguely feline top she owned and she knew Otis liked it when it had revealed itself.

A-when there's no one else in sight,

A-in crowded lonely night

Well, I wait so long for my love vibration

And I'm dancing with myself

"Come on, Otis," she urged. "Sing."

"I can't sing, Maeve," he said.

"You got a great voice, Otis. You're better than Alanis."

If I had the chance I'd ask the world to dance

And I'll be dancin' with myself

Otis looked up and watched her be gorgeous as she raised her arms above her head, swaying them as if she was having to keep weights in the air, shaking her head from side to side with the beat.

Oh oh, Dancing with a-myself,

Oh, oh, dancing with myself

Otis stepped forward and held out his hand and she saw and took it and he pulled her gently forward and to his side and watched as she spun in a circle as she passed by him, releasing his hand when at the end of his stretch and spinning back around to face him as he turned to face her.

So let's sink another drink

Cause it'll give me time to think

Maeve reached out her hand and Otis took it and she pulled him gently forward and to the side and watched as he spun in a circle as he passed by her, releasing her hand when at the end of her stretch and spinning back around to face her as she turned to face him.

Oh oh, Dancing with a-myself,

Oh, oh, dancing with myself

They reached for each other's hands in mid-air and performed a rhythmic gentle push-pull, bodies moving to the beat, singing into each other's face.

If I had the chance I'd ask the world to dance

If I had the chance I'd ask the world to dance

Oh, oh, oh, oh oh

Oh, oh, oh dancin' with myself

The song ended and nothing replaced it and Maeve curled over laughing and a smiling Otis watched her, almost shocked at how good he was feeling.

Maeve looked at him, grinning. "You are a great dancer, Otis. What's wrong with you? 'Oh, I can't dance'."

Otis smiled at her impersonation of himself and watched as she staggered over and flopped back onto his bed. He staggered over to join her and as he settled by her side she raised herself, reached over and draped her hand across his chest and bent her head down to kiss him and as their tongues played gleefully with each other and his hand reached up to rest gently on her shoulder neither of them realized that this was the most comfortable he had ever been. That either had ever been.

The kissing ended and Maeve flopped backwards onto the bed again and they stared at the ceiling, chests heaving as they recovered from their dancing.

"Shit, Otis. I'm glad you invited me over," she said, breathlessly.

"First date with my mum wasn't bad, was it?" he said, breathlessly.

"It was brilliant," she murmured.

"We have to think where to go for our second date. Are you doing anything tomorrow night, Maeve?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"On whether you ask me out somewhere."

"Would you like to go out to dinner with me tomorrow night, Maeve?" Otis asked, grinning as he looked at her.

Maeve turned her head to face him, returning his grin. "Sure. Where are we going?"

"Let's just get something simple. Want to go to Speedy Grill?"

"No," she said immediately.

"Don't like it?" he asked.

"I work there," she said.

"What?" he said, surprised, rising on one elbow to look down at her.

"Occasionally. I don't get as many shifts as I used to. They have to pay me too much now I'm seventeen."

"You never told me you worked there," he said, still grinning as he shook his head.

"I know," she said, smiling as she looked into his eyes.

"Why not?"

"I didn't want you coming over while I was on shift. Get real."

"Why not?"

"Have you seen that fucking uniform? I look like a yellow wotsit."

"I bet you look gorgeous," he said, eyes roaming all over her face.

"Are you objectifying me, Milburn?" she asked fondly.

"Yes," he said, holding his smiling gaze on her.

"No," she said, firmly.

"I owe Eric for… y'know… his birthday. That'll be perfect. He'll love it."

"No," she said again, smirking, eyes glittering.

"Spoilsport," he said, bending down and their lips touched and their tongues played and Maeve brought her hand up to gently caress his cheek and she was amazed how quickly Otis was getting even better at this when he was comfortable in his own skin and when they broke apart and she gazed adoringly up at him gazing adoringly down at her, she finally realized.

"How are you feeling?" she asked softly after a moment, biting her lip.

"Fine," he said, puzzled.

"I mean, this. Us. You leaning over me like that. Kissing."

"Great. Really good," he watched her carefully, trying to see if he had found the words she was looking for.

She nodded then said gently, without ever taking her eyes from his, "Your hand's been on my breast for the last couple of minutes."

Otis stared at her then looked down at his hand caressing her right breast and snatched it away in horror and glanced around the room, unable to look at her.

She quickly raised her hand to gently grab his wrist. "Shush, shush," she said, soothingly, watching him carefully. "It's okay, Otis. It's okay. It's the next step, isn't it? Hugging, kissing, boob."

He gave a small involuntary chuckle then froze for a moment before summoning all his courage to turn to look at her. She wasn't sure if it was embarrassment or shame or something else in his eyes but it was obvious to her that he was too shocked with himself to even attempt to apologise.

"It's really okay, Otis," she said, softly, never taking her eyes from his.

He swallowed but could not speak.

"Touch it again," she said gently. "Your choice, but I'd like you to."

Otis hitched a breath, hesitated, stared into Maeve's loving eyes.

"It didn't explode last time you touched it. It probably won't this time," she said, smiling gently.

He smiled involuntarily and slowly nodded and slowly reached over to gently replace his hand on her right breast, thumb resting directly over her nipple.

She let him see how good that felt to her.

"How does it feel?" she almost whispered.

Otis glanced down at his hand then back into her eyes.

"It feels good, Maeve," and his voice was barely a whisper.

She smiled and her eyes glittered. "It feels really good from this end, Otis."

She raised her head slightly, lips parting and she was pleased when he mirrored her and their lips and tongues met and it was far more tentative than a few minutes ago but it was confirmation.

Their lips broke apart and Maeve was pleased Otis kept looking at her.

"It's when you're inside your head," she said. "That's when you've felt uncomfortable with all this. Kissing. This." She glanced in the direction of his hand on her breast.

Otis slowly removed his hand but kept his gaze on her, taking in her words.

"Up on the road, on our bench," Maeve continued gently. "You were there, Otis," she said, glancing at his chest, hoping he understood her meaning. "You were… comfortable in your own skin, is the phrase I've been using. Does that sound right?"

Otis rolled away from her and sat up, looking at the floor, pondering. "Yes," he eventually said. "I was trying to figure out the difference."

Maeve nodded and raised herself to be sitting beside him. She looked tenderly at him then raised her hand to tentatively rest against his shoulder, allowing it to settle once he didn't flinch.

"You okay?" she asked.

He nodded.

"You don't feel like you're going to have a panic attack?"

He shook his head.

"Embarrassed?"

"A little," he nodded after a moment.

"I'm not," she said. "If that helps."

He looked at her and held her gaze for a moment, then nodded.

"Good," she said and glanced at the clock. "I'm sorry. I'm going to have to go, Otis, unless…"

She looked carefully at him, unsure whether he needed space or a friend or a girlfriend at the moment.

"Do you still need to talk?" she asked, tenderly.

He looked at her and shook his head. "No, Maeve, n—" he began and then looked away, thoughts churning.

"If you need to talk, Otis – and you don't have to – I'm here to listen."

Maeve waited as Otis turned things over in his mind and then breathed deeply and shook his head.

"No, Maeve, I'll be fine." He gazed at her as if he was again seeing her in a new light. "Thanks," he said, softly.

"Okay." She nodded, understood that right now he needed space to think or whatever, and she rose to her feet and walked over to collect her shoes.

She hoped he wouldn't freak out once she left.


Maeve and Otis stood beneath the porch light. Maeve had put her jacket back on. Otis' shirt was still a little sweat-soaked from their dancing.

"Say 'bye to your mum for me if she's still awake," Maeve said.

"Couldn't see the light on in her office but I'll let her know," Otis said.

Their eyes caressed each other for a few moments.

"Thanks again for inviting me over, Otis. It's been a really good night from my side."

Otis nodded. "Thanks for… y'know…"

"I got the better part of the bargain," Maeve smirked. "You gonna wash that hand?"

Otis chuckled and said, "Maybe not," and Maeve could see he was still a little embarrassed but she could see no sign of anything more or worse.

Maeve stepped forward and Otis spread his arms and they embraced and kissed again – no tongues this time - and Maeve could sense that he was as close to being comfortable in his own skin as he could be without quite getting there.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," Maeve said as their kiss ended.

Otis grimaced. "'Sweetheart'?"

"I'm just trying them on to see if they fit," Maeve said in mock annoyance. "I won't use that one again, alright? Bloody hell."

"It's alright, pumpkin. I'll forgive you."

Maeve smirked and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

"You better," she said then gave him a last fond look in the eyes and turned to walk away up the stairs to the road.

"You sure you'll be okay getting home alone? I can come with you. Take my bike. Ride it back," Otis called after her.

Maeve stopped and turned, looking at him with a fond smile.

"It's alright, Otis," she said. "I'll be fine. Thanks."

Otis nodded and Maeve gazed at him for a few moments.

"Goodnight, boyfriend," she said.

"Goodnight, girlfriend," he said.

Maeve nodded and turned and continued up the stairs.

"I'll text you when I get home," she called back over her shoulder.

Otis watched her until he couldn't see her anymore then he kept watching the direction she disappeared to just in case she forgot something and had to come back. When he finally walked back inside, half an hour had passed. He left the light on for her, just in case.


Author's Notes: I hope this step forward worked and doesn't feel too unbelievable yet for Otis. It is only their first day together, after all.

There's a photo out there of Maeve in a yellow top over the top she was wearing when we first saw her. (I think it's that one.) It could be photo-shopped but likely from a deleted sequence. I can't remember seeing it in the show.

Anyway, that's where the Speedy Grill bit came from. I can't quite read the logo in the photo.