Post Parental Guidance Suggested – Season 7
Author's note: After the tough conversation in the last entry, I opted to post one from that same story arc that is decidedly more optimistic. I can't say this is actual head-canon for me; it's just one possibility. Maybe a good possibility, may not. But I hope it at least rings true to some small degree.
The sound was faint but unmistakable. As Tony tip-toed around the corner toward his room so as not to wake up Billy, he heard muffled whimpers emanating from behind Angela's bedroom door.
Pausing a moment to be sure, he listened carefully and again heard the distinct sound of crying.
The reason for it hit him like a steel beam.
Andy.
The rotten doctor had broken up with her a few hours earlier after she'd forgotten about a college football game. How big of an idiot did you have to be to sacrifice a woman like Angela over a football game?
The metaphorical steel beam swung back the other way and clobbered him again. How big of an idiot did you have to be to risk losing Angela for any other woman on the planet, even Kathleen Sawyer? He knew that had been a closer call than he'd ever admitted out loud. Angela would have been well within her rights to send him packing for what he'd done to their fledgling relationship. He still wasn't sure if they'd ever get back to where they had been, but he was quite willing to die trying.
Torn between wanting to respect her privacy and offer some vague notion of support, Tony stood motionless in the hallway until guilt won out. She wouldn't have been with Andy in the first place if he hadn't slept with Kathleen and set them on separate paths.
He gently knocked on the door but didn't wait for a response before turning the handle and poking his head inside the room. "Angela? You in here?"
The room was dim, with only a soft amber light from the bedside table lamp.
"Now's not really a good time, Tony," she said from the bed, not bothering to hide or deny her crying. She'd hidden enough tears from him in recent months, and what good had it done her? Besides, there really wasn't any way to hide this, given that he'd obviously heard her from the hallway. Why else would he have knocked?
"So I gather," he said, but didn't leave. Instead, he closed the door behind him and stepped toward the bed, where she was sitting against the headboard with her legs crossed and a pillow clasped to her chest. "Wanna talk about it?"
She sighed audibly but didn't order him to leave, which he took as a good sign. "Not much to talk about. Just another in a long line of failed relationships."
"Aww, come on, Andy is a putz for walking out on you tonight."
She smiled ruefully but held her ground. "And what about Peter, and Geoffrey, and Grant, and the first Jeffrey, and even Michael. And all the guys who only stayed long enough for one or two dates?"
"All of them were putzes," he affirmed in her defense. Taking a seat beside her on the edge of the bed, he continued, "Those relationships were their loss. They didn't know what they had."
Angela felt a kernel of anger begin to take root in beneath her heartbreak, and it grew just enough to prompt her to ask, "Any what about you, Tony?"
"Me? What about me? We never dated." He seemed genuinely confused, which gave her the courage to press forward.
"How well I know," she replied dryly.
"Ay-oh, what's the supposed to mean?"
She shook her head, not sure if it was worth pursuing. If he couldn't see it, could she even explain it?
"Nothing, nevermind."
But he wasn't having it. "Nope, you don't drop a bomb like that and then run for cover."
She shook her head in resignation. "I'm just lashing out and being spiteful. Throughout all the relationships I've had since Michael left, the only one that's lasted is the one that doesn't actually exist," she said with a pointed but sad look in his direction.
Tony's eyes widened as her meaning became clear, leaving him uncharacteristically tongue-tied.
"It's okay, Tony, I know all the reasons why nothing could ever happen between us. It's just, sometimes, those reasons feel more and more irrelevant."
"The fact that I work for you is hardly irrelevant," he pointed out with more than a hint of regret.
She scooted toward him on the bed and reached out and took his hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't intend to make this about us – or to make you uncomfortable. I'm just upset."
He looked down at their laced fingers and resolved to offer her some small consolation. "It's not for lack of interest, you know."
"There was a time I thought I knew that for certain," she confessed, but didn't elaborate on the clear implication that her certainty was no more. That fact should speak for itself.
"I hope, someday, I can make you feel that sure about things again."
"You do?"
"I know you have no reason to believe me, but yes, I do." It was time he apologized for his mistakes. "The past few months haven't been easy for us, and that's my fault. I'm so sorry, Angela. I didn't trust where my life was going."
"And now you do?" she asked, not sure if they were ready to have this conversation, but compelled to ask nonetheless.
He weighed his response carefully before meeting her eyes, "Yeah, I do," he answered solemnly, before following up with, "It's going to take time to get there, but I vow to do whatever it takes."
The heartache of the past few months surged through her, mingling with her sadness over the end of another relationship – even though she wasn't all that invested in it, truth be told. Andy had been a nice distraction, but she knew there wasn't enough between them for anything longterm – which is probably why Tony's admission caused tears to well up and spill over, even as the lump in her throat grew to the size of a softball. Here was the man she'd loved for years, who had shattered her heart into a million pieces, pledging to earn back her trust.
"Oh, Tony." His name came out as a strangled sob, and anything else she might have wanted to say got lost in his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him. She held him tight in return, accepting the comfort he offered as she let the sobs come and tears flow freely.
Eventually, her breathing calmed and the tears ceased to fall. But still she let him hold her close and savored the familiar security of his embrace. When their arms released and they separated just enough to look at one another, Tony brought his thumb to wipe away the wetness on her cheeks.
"Feel better?"
She nodded and leaned into his hand. "I do," she admitted. "A good cry works wonders."
"I'm glad. I hate seeing you so upset, especially over a guy like Andy."
She looked at him wistfully and shook her head, "Oh, Tony, I wasn't crying for him."
At his confused countenance, she gave in and bared it all. What did she have to lose?
"I was crying for you, for us, for probably the hundredth time in the past few months."
When his face fell with devastation, she added quickly, "No, don't be upset. For once, this was a good cry, a healing cry."
She brought her hands to his face and cupped his jaw. "These were tears of hope," she whispered softly. Then she drew his face toward her and placed a soft kiss on his lips. Maybe it was too soon, and maybe it was stupidly impulsive. And maybe it was just the effects of her heartache. But she did it anyway.
Pausing to see his reaction, she was unprepared when he pressed forward and captured her mouth fully with his own. She responded in kind, and the kiss deepened, growing passionate and drawing an involuntary moan from Angela as Tony eased her back against the pillows. After adjusting his position, he was poised above her, searching her eyes for any objection before continuing. In answer, she lifted her arms to his shoulders and drew him to her, meeting his mouth once again in a morass of frenzied, reckless abandon.
One kiss melted into another and another as their limbs entangled on the bed. When Tony's hand slipped under the hem of her sweatshirt and climbed up her bare back, Angela arched into him, reveling in the feel of his palms against her skin. In response, Angela tugged his t-shirt from the waistband of his jeans and ran her hands up his sides before pulling the shirt over his head and tossing it aside. She kissed her way across his jaw and down his throat, biting sharply at his collarbone when he brought his gloriously curious hands around her waist and high enough to just graze the sides her breasts.
Somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind a voice was reminding her of the need to be cautious, to take time to fully heal and repair the fissures that still marred the bond they'd shared for so long. But the voice was faint in comparison to the sensations evoked by his lips and tongue and hands.
The sound of a door opening and closing could not have been more jarring than a bucket of ice water. Tony leaped up, scrambling for his shirt even as their eyes darted to the bedroom door, which remained securely closed. The sound had come from the hallway and was quickly followed by another door being opened and closed.
Tony's eyes flew to Angela's as he whispered, "Billy or Jonathan?"
"How should I know?" she whispered back, frantically readjusting her clothes to ensure she was appropriately covered.
A moment later, they heard a toilet flushing, and one of the boys retracing his steps back to his bedroom. When the house was silent once again, Tony sat back down on the bed with a sigh of relief.
"I think it was Billy," he said.
"How do you know?"
"Jonathan's room is right next to this one, so the sound of the door would have been louder."
Angela had no idea if he was right or not, but the theory was as good as any.
With her heartrate returning to normal, she scooted to the edge of the bed, next to Tony. The interruption was both a necessary blessing and cruel curse. No matter how caught up in each other they might have been, they had two boys asleep under their roof they had to consider. They also had enough baggage between them to fill a 747, and much of it still needed to be unpacked.
But in that moment, all Angela could do was begin to chuckle, then giggle absurdly.
"Talk about a close call!"
Tony joined in, "No kidding, that about gave me a heart attack."
When their laughter subsided, they looked at each other without an ounce of the embarrassment one might expect after such an unplanned, and untimely, encounter.
"Is it wrong of me to say that was amazing?" Tony asked, reaching over to take her hand in his.
"It really was," Angela admitted without reservation. "But I can't deny I'm a little grateful for the interruption," she added honestly, "Because I wouldn't have stopped on my own."
His eyes met hers, and he nodded, "Me either."
"Would that have been so bad," she asked, "you know, if we hadn't stopped."
Tony shook his head, "No, it wouldn't have been bad at all. It would have been amazing. But with everything that's happened recently, the raw emotions, and Billy to think about, I think we'll be glad when this happens at a more appropriate time and place."
Angela nodded in agreement. "It gives us something to look forward to."
"Yes, it does," Tony affirmed.
Their eyes locked with the intensity of a promise made, and each leaned over until their lips met once more. Then, with herculean effort, Tony stood up and stepped toward the door.
"Until next time," he whispered to her.
"Soon," she replied, as he stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind him.