No cheeky cats this time. I tried to polish this one up quickly for you guys!
Angela groaned as they approached the doorway. "Mother," she grumbled, pulling the Do Not Disturb sign from the handle.
"What, that isn't for housekeeping?"
"No, we have a sort of unspoken system," she replied.
"Which is...?"
"DND sign on the door if one of us is out of the room is not for the housekeeping. It means –"
"This room's a-rockin, don't come a-knockin'?" he chuckled.
She rolled her eyes. "Something like that. But that is not appropriate tonight. Sam said the hotel is full - we are lucky we got the rooms we did. And that man owns the hotel! Why didn't she go back to his room?"
Tony snickered. "Maybe he likes taking his rooms for a spin now and then. You know, quality control," he teased.
She glared at him, then rapped on the door more forcefully. "MOTHER!"
Tony pulled her back, stilling her by the arms. "Angela, it's after ten. There are guests trying to sleep. Look, I'm just next door, I –"
Her eyes widened. "No, Tony, that is out of the question," she turned back to the door. "MOTHERRRRR!" She shout-whispered, still rapping loudly. An elderly lady opened her door and peered out at them.
"If *I* can hear you, you're too loud." She shut the door before she could see Angela's hands up in a mea culpa.
They put their ears to the door and looked at each other. Angela winced.
"Too late," they said in unison.
"Well, like it or not, looks like you're shackin' up with me," he joked, his thumbs tugging at a pair of imaginary suspenders.
"Guess not. I'll sleep in Jonathan's room," she said, sliding next door and knocking softly. "Jonathan!" She shout-whispered, banging more loudly. "JONATHANNN!"
This time, a portly man in his pajamas and the elderly lady both emerged from their rooms, their faces awash in angry squints and confused half-asleep rage. Tony smiled at them apologetically, then opened the door to his own room and ushered Angela inside.
Angela shook Tony off her shoulders and raked an exasperated hand through her hair. "Tony, we cannot - cannot! - share a room."
"Aw, it's no big deal, Angela. We've shared a bed before. We've even shared a sleeping bag before. And hey, at least this is a normal, queen-sized bed and not a bed built for elves!"
She scowled at him. "It's so inappropriate, Tony. You're dating Kathleen. I'm seeing Peter. We cannot."
"Hey yo, by the way, what's this mean, 'I'm seeeeein' Peeta?'" His hands were in air quotes. "What's the difference?"
She laughed at him nervously. "What do you think it means?" She threw up her own air quotes. "I'm seeeein' Peeta, Tony."
He grinned at her adorable, teasing impression of him, sucking in his bottom lip. Somehow this caused their skillfully avoidant banter to grind to a halt, leaving a deafening silence between them. He wondered if she too, was filling the silence with the things they never said to one another.
Tony looked up at her under his heavy brow. "Hey yo, Ange, are you with Peter?"
"That's...none of your business, Tony," she said gently, her eyes soft but resolved.
He nodded in reply, turned around and fished an old t-shirt and boxer shorts from his suitcase. He tossed it to her and she accepted it gratefully.
"Hey Ange -" she turned around. "You know, while you were in the bathroom just now, before we walked back, the band played an encore."
"Oh yeah? What was it?" She asked.
"That Dolly Parton song. I will always love you," he said, his apologetic eyes saying the rest.
Angela looked down at her hands, nodded and started to turn back into the bathroom, but stopped herself.
"I'm not with Peter," she said quietly, closing the door between them.
"I'm not with Kathleen either," he said to no one.
Angela emerged a few minutes later in Tony's blackwatch plaid boxers and a navy blue t-shirt that proudly screamed ROSSINI'S FISH MARKET in large, bold letters beneath the head of a slack-jawed, gray-eyed fish. Her hair was pulled into a loose, messy updo on top of her head. Angela was perplexed by Tony's bemused expression.
She looked at him, pushing her hair around her head. "What?"
He laughed. "Nothin."
Angela crossed her arms self-consciously in front of her. "WHAT?"
"It's nothin, Angela," he smirked.
She glared at him under a skeptical brow. "Okay, okay. I was just thinking what a ridiculous t-shirt that is. I mean, I'm not in advertising or nothin', but that shirt does not make me want to eat fish."
Angela looked down at her shirt and frowned at the gaping mouth threatening to swallow her upper half whole. "I feel like he's about to eat me," she said. "It's memorable, that's for sure. It draws attention. From an advertising perspective, it's probably more successful than you'd think."
"Huh," he said thoughtfully, putting the shams behind the sleeping pillows. "You're the expert."
"Well, you couldn't have chosen a more perfect outfit to platonically sleep in the same bed, that's for sure," she said, pulling back the covers.
Tony chuckled. "Unfortunately, that shirt is nothing short of adorable on you," he said a bit wistfully. Angela's mouth twitched into a shy smile at his approval. "But – but – I am nonetheless quite capable of maintaining a respectful distance from you and that fish," Tony said, puffing out his chest.
Angela climbed into the covers, settling them over her as she replied quietly, "I know."
She squinted, spotting something on the blankets she'd missed before. "I think these are your socks, Tony," she said, offering them to him.
Tony began busying himself with something over on the hotel desk. "Ah, no, I put those there for you," he called over his shoulder.
She furrowed a brow at him. "Why?"
"Because you always wear socks when you sleep," he said, striding over to her with a mug. He set it down gently next to her bedside. "I made us some chamomile tea. I figured we can use all the help we can get on getting some shuteye tonight." Angela cast him a serene smile, hoping to put him at ease, and wondered if it was their sleeping arrangements, or their worry over Sam that was more likely to cause insomnia.
Tony climbed into the bed next to her as Angela slipped on the socks. "Thank you," she said quietly. "For the socks...and the tea." The tea was a near-nightly ritual at this point; not in bed, of course, but it made sense that he would have thought to make them tea. But the socks...they never slept in the same room; it was sweet that he knew this about her. Her heart swelled, touched at his thoughtfulness, but it was bittersweet. How many other little mundane details did he know about her that she took completely for granted? How would she carry on if things progressed with Kathleen and Tony? Would she ever find anyone who knew her as completely as this man?
"Eh oh, it's the least I can do. I'm so glad you're here, Ange," he said, clinking his mug with hers. They sipped their tea in contemplative silence before setting their mugs down, turning off the lights and settling into the bed.
"Hey Angela," he said, propping himself up on one elbow to face her, "do you remember being her age? What's she thinkin?"
"Oh Tony - she's not thinking, she's feeling," she said gently. He smiled at her. "You know Tony, I'll never forget how I felt when I left home for college; it felt like I was becoming myself for the first time in my life. I felt free. Really, truly free," she said wistfully.
"Yeah, when Marie and I got married, I think that was when I felt that. Going on the road, playing for the Cards - it felt like what I was meant to do. I guess that's what you mean, eh?"
Angela nodded. "I think she's gotten her first taste of independence and is leaning into the romance of it all. The beautiful Western landscape, the cowboy, the freedom - you have to admit, it's all pretty dreamy from where she sits. Don't you remember being her age, Tony? You and Marie married young."
"Yeah, yeah, but we..." he trailed off.
"Didn't have any money," Angela interjected gently.
"Yeah."
"Were young and in love," she continued.
"You were playing in the minors and her father thought it was crazy she was going to marry you, isn't that right?" She added gently, taking a sip of her tea. "She's not doing anything her parents didn't do."
Tony's face crumpled. "Oh, Angela...I'm screwed aren't I? She's a goner. She's going to go play Little House on the Prairie with this kid and I'm never gonna see her again," he whined.
Angela set down her mug, then turned back to him and took his hands. "There's one difference."
"Which is?"
"She's got a scholarship waiting for her back at home. It's a lot easier to make these decisions when you don't know where you're going. She has a path forward. We just have to help her see it."
"I just wish she was feeling more sad about leaving her father behind," he said with a pout. "And eh oh, what's your excuse? You had a college career lined up."
Angela thought about it for a moment. "I was impulsive and not really sure how to navigate my newfound adulthood. My therapist helped me see that during that time I was sitting with some unresolved grief about my father, kind of for the first time. I was a little adrift, no longer having Mother to care for. I think I threw myself at the first thing that came along that wanted to take care of me."
"That makes a lot of sense, Ange."
"If I'm being really honest, as much as I love her, I'm not sure she was equipped to guide me through that, Tony. She was grieving too, and going through her own exploration of self. She wasn't focused on me, other than the things that were wrong with me...and college was a time I could drown out her critical voice a bit, find my own way."
Tony nodded. "Well good thing that's not the case for Sam. I mean eh oh, she doesn't have Marie, but she has you."
Angela pursed her lips together, holding tightly to his hands and her emotions as her eyes found his in the blue darkness. "She has us."
