Till death do us part

chapter 34

(c) 2024 by ihatemilk

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Stupidly, he thought – well, not that therapy would solve everything, make all the shit go away, but – well, at least to an extent – but – of course it didn't.

Well, it didn't.

She still slept upstairs.

But something changed.

The way she talked to him; he could tell she tried to be more mindful of what she said – cautious, even – to the point when it even irked him, at times.

The way she looked at him; there was something different to it, he couldn't quite make out what, or even if he liked it or not; but it was there, and it always hit him.

Well, at least things were getting better, even if it was just a step at a time. It wasn't like they stopped fighting altogether – they still had occasional arguments – they were both too stubborn not to – but it was different than before. On his part, he was really mindful to control himself; but she acted different, too. Even when a talk would get heated, she wouldn't get mean like she used to, which in turn made it easier for him to be civil.

He felt he should've appreciated all that – and maybe he would have – if it hadn't been for the fact that, somehow, contrary to all logic, frustratingly – the distance between them seemed to grow. Not even physically – well, sex was one thing, he didn't expect it to happen anytime soon – but it was more than that; he could be looking her in the eye and holding her hand and she would still be behind a glass wall.

Then, when, on top of that, one day she asked him about work for what had to be a third time in a row – and not just about Yemen – it dawned on him – what she was doing – what this was all about – and, just like that, his anger management skills were put to another test. Gods, even the damn rain drumming on the kitchen window made his jaw clench right now.

"Why do you wanna know about it, Xena?" He drew a long breath, left the table and walked over to the sofa.

"Just interested," she said, joining him on the sofa a while later.

"Since when?" he asked, reclining against the cushions – and regretted the question the moment he realized she was going to bring up Afghanistan.

But she didn't.

"Wasn't this what you wanted? Us working together? she asked casually.

"Us working together?" he echoed, emphasizing each word, his brows going up.

"You were so keen on the idea just recently."

"Yeah, and I distinctly remember that you weren't – oh, okay, so—" he scoffed, "is that what this is? You wanna do what – damage control? Supervise me?"

He wasn't facing her, but even out of the corner of his eye he could see her expression changing, tensing, and how she clearly stopped herself from saying what was on the tip of her tongue.

He snorted, raising his eyebrows.

Of course – this wasn't about him, about her wanting to be with him, to share his life – this was about her being the fucking hero, saving the world from him, as she always had. Not that he even for a second believed it could've been more than that, but still, it stung in an annoying way, in a way that – made him take a deep breath to bite his own tongue not to say what he'd regret later.

"That's the thing with you, Ares, you get all proud and reject help even when you need it."

"Oh, you're the one to talk."

"Well, right now, it's you we're talking about, so—"

"Look, if you think you're gonna—"

"Ares… I can't help you if you keep pushing me away."

He was about to protest but the way she grabbed his arm shut him up, catching him a bit off guard; and it felt so good when she stroked up and down slowly, so much warmth to her touch; she hadn't touched him like that in forever.

He took a hold of her and pulled her close, flush against his chest, the swell of her belly pressing into him, their noses brushing, his heartbeat so violent he felt it thudding in his ears. "Xena…" he whispered, not knowing what he wanted to say, he just – gods, her touch, her hand on his head, their foreheads pressing together, having her touch him, not pushing him away, finally – "Xena…"

"It's okay…" she whispered, running her thumb down the side of his face. "Ares… I know you're too pig-headed to get it," she said, making him smirk, "but – this is not me invading, taking anything away from you… this is me supporting you…"

"'Cause I'm too pig-headed to do it myself?" he said, making her grin widen.

Then, the smile gone from her face, she said. "'Cause we're a team."

He opened his eyes, her wince making him realize his hands were clamped on her upper arms; he let go, wrapping his arms around her waist. "It's the one thing I have that is just mine," he said, surprising himself with how easy the confession left his mouth; had to be the therapy after-effects.

"Is it?" she raised one brow teasingly. "What about me?"

"You…" he muttered unconsciously, not sure what they were talking about anymore, her touch gliding down his chest making him lose the plot entirely.

"Am I not just yours?" she whispered, a wave of fire spreading over his groin when her scent washed over him again, her face brushing his, their lips meeting, her tongue probing softly.

"Is it just me or are you trying to seduce me to get your way?" he asked, his breath getting shallow.

"Why, isn't it working?" she asked in a sultry whisper.

"I think you'll need to try harder…" he breathed, feeling her hand roam over the front of his pants.

"It seems hard enough to me…"

He squeezed his eyes shut, the current spreading through his groin, shooting up his body, filling his head, his temples about to burst. The way she was touching him, gods, there was no accidental move, every stroke of her fingers calculated with precision that would've driven him over the edge right there if he didn't use his powers to get a hold of himself.

He wanted to touch her, too, afterwards, a frustrated sigh leaving his lungs when she stopped him.

But then, she wrapped herself around him, her head on his chest; and, for the first time in forever, he was at peace.

#

"Mmm…" she hummed, his hand on her back sending waves of warm current all over her. "Feels so good…" She closed her eyes, pressing her cheek more into the crook of his neck. It felt so good to hold him, so blissful, relieving; like she could breathe at the top of her lungs again; like she was locked away in a bubble that kept everything else tuned down; even the sound of the huge raindrops thudding against the windows seemed soft and distant.

Little steps.

"Ares…"

"Mm?"

"You once said you're not your own person anymore…" she said, trailing off. He sighed in response. "Well, you're not. Neither of us is, not anymore. This is how it works when you share your life with someone."

"I thought it was me – that I was – it made me feel so weak, it drove me mad…"

"No," she said, toying with the hair behind his ear. "It's what happens when people are close. Even more so, when they become parents. And it's a strength, not a weakness."

"Well, it's not like I have much expertise in that department…"

"That's why I'm telling you this." She run her fingers through his hair. "Just gotta trust me on this one."

"I do." He grabbed her hand and brought it to his mouth. "I trust you with everything," he whispered, his breath brushing the nape of her hand, the warm softness of his mouth pressing into her skin.

She let out a little sigh, tears filling her eyes. She couldn't say the same, but the very fact he trusted her like this was quite overwhelming, somehow.

Little steps; even if she couldn't picture being able to say it ever again, she couldn't dwell on it. They were here now, and they were taking another step forward, towards tomorrow; towards each other.

Another little step – which she was going to focus on now, living it as it lasted. All that damn therapy wasn't that bad, after all; she didn't tell him that, but she was secretly grateful that he talked her into it. And, maybe, still a bit moved – just a little – that he cared enough to get them to do it. Because that – was actually a big step.

Maybe the biggest one of all.