Fic: Say It
Title: Say It
Author: casy_dee
Rating: M/NC-17
Characters/Pairing: Connor/Abby
Spoiler: S4 (very very slight, character name only)
Warning: Angst, Smut!
Genre: Angst/Romance (of a sort...)
Words: 2,089
Summary: This was born from a drabble I wrote on a weekly drabble tree on conbykink and it had so much potential that I decided to make it a full blown ficlet. Let's just say Connor and Abby have a difference of opinion about where their relationship is headed. Hope you enjoy.
Say It
She had deliberately positioned herself so that when she uncrossed her legs, Connor would instantly see that she wasn't wearing knickers. It was a dirty trick, but she was not above dirty tricks, like borrowing the skirt instead of the trousers from Jess because her jeans had been slimed. She and Connor had argued, and they hardly argued... and worse... Connor was still angry, and he hardly ever got angry. Not like this. They were sat in the pub with all their co-workers having a celebratory drink after a successful close of an anomaly, and if anything, the flash she'd just given him (and half the pub) had turned his slow burn into an inferno. He downed the rest of his pint and motioned for another, glowering at her over the rim.
Outwardly she ignored his anger, while inwardly she delighted in it. She was furious, and she was happy to send some of it back to him, and to show him what he'd missed out on by rowing with her, by making demands that she couldn't possibly fulfill. She thought he understood this... but if he hadn't, maybe he'd never understood her at all. She thought back to how it had begun…
~~~~~~~
She’d been pleased to smell dinner cooking when she walked in the door to their flat, and if she thought anything of the candles or the wine on the table, it was that Connor had obviously gotten pointers on how to be romantic. It was a nice change to a film with pizza and Corona… a tradition that they had rekindled as soon as the thought had occurred to them. To Connor, actually. She’d wondered if he’d actually picked a romantic film to go with the candles and wine, or if he’d picked up one of his typical favorites.
“Connor?”
He came out of the kitchen, spoon in hand.
“Abby… you’re home already? I was just finishing up…”
“With?” she asked, bemused.
He gave her a nervous grin, “I made pasta for us.”
She smiled, “That sounds lovely, Connor. Did you pick up a film?”
“No. I… no. I thought perhaps we could just… er… talk?” he asked hopefully.
Abby got the first indication that something was different; he was planning something. She quirked an eyebrow, “Alright.”
Something of her trepidation must have shown through on her face because he deflated a little bit.
He nodded, “Good,” he said, but she knew he'd wanted to say something else.
He pulled out her chair and poured her a glass of wine, promising to join her in a few moments. She was bothered, genuinely bothered. She didn’t know what Connor had planned, but she imagined it was something to do with the fact that their lease was about to expire. She’d seen him looking at houses for sale in the paper the other day, and she wasn’t sure she what she thought about the idea of buying a house with Connor. She supposed it was a natural next step, and after all they’d been through she couldn’t imagine not living with him, but part of her wanted to get up and leave to avoid the conversation. She could do this, but it made her feel nervous and twitchy... as if her skin was too tight... hunted.
He brought out their plates and they ate in relative silence. It wasn’t like him, and the hunted feeling grew inside of her. He cleared the table, taking her plate for her, and that wasn’t like him either. He'd shot her furtive glances throughout the meal, and he'd opened his mouth to speak, but said nothing. She hadn't been able to think of anything to say either, so she let the silence build into an impenetrable wall between them. She was tired of all the silence and tension and she just wanted him to just come out with it.
“What is all this, Connor?” she asked when he returned to the table and made to pour her more wine.
He smiled tentatively and cleared his throat, “I’m rubbish at this sort of thing, aren’t I?”
Her brow furrowed as she waited for him to explain, trying to hide her impatience.
He dropped to his knee and fumbled in his pocket for the ring he’s spent all of his back pay on, producing it after a few awkward moments. Nervous and hopeful, he was even smiling a little bit.
“Abby, will you marry me? Please?”
Panic. Sheer blinding panic. This was something she wasn’t ready for. It would ruin everything. Marriages didn’t work, not in the real world, not for her. She'd told him that! He knew it!
The smile fell from his face, replaced by the dawning realization that Abby wasn’t going to fulfill the dream he’d had of this moment playing out in his head. He must have not realized how serious she'd been when she told him she would never get married.
“Abby?” he asked, his face crumbling, “Answer me?”
She was shaking her head, and she didn’t even realize she was doing it. Still, she couldn’t find it in her to say no. She couldn’t say yes, either.
“Put that away!” Abby replied, pushing away the proffered ring, “I can’t deal with this right now.”
She hated to see that terrible look of hurt and betrayal on his face, and it was worse because she’d put it there… again… when she’d thought they had moved past such things. Hadn’t they?
“Get up,” she snapped, and winced inwardly at the bite in her words.
Connor’s lips trembled, and then pressed together in a firm line. He set his jaw stubbornly and shook his head, “No.”
He dropped his other knee to the ground, “Please Abby. Marry me?”
She just shook her head wordlessly, “Don’t ask me this now. Don’t.”
He stood slowly, “Tell me why. Give me a reason.”
He wanted to understand. She saw that, but she couldn’t explain it to him. Couldn’t explain the way the fear had wrapped her up and closed her throat and rendered her voiceless. She’d seen what she had with Connor shattering into a million jagged pieces… a rift between them that could never be mended. Not ever. How could she put the sick, gut-twisting nauseous feeling of unease into words? How dare he ask her that!
“Tell me,” he demanded, angry and wounded, tears rising in his eyes.
She pressed a hand to her stomach and shook her head fiercely, anger burning behind her clear cold blue eyes.
“Tell me, Abby!” he shouted, but his voice broke on her name.
The detector had gone off, and then their mobiles both rang simultaneously, breaking the moment. Efficiency was everything in the new ARC. They had both already worked a full day; it must be important. They rode to the ARC in complete silence, and only communicated with each other when it was absolutely necessary. It had been important, in a manner of speaking. They had both been needed, at any rate, although no lives were in critical danger this time.
She didn’t know what had possessed her to agree to go out with the team after it had closed other than a perverse desire to postpone the inevitable confrontation with Connor. There would be one. Connor was not quick to anger, but she knew that the fierce spark of determination she’d lit in his dark eyes signaled that this was something he’d pursue with dogged determination. She just wanted to put it off a little longer. Then it had turned into something else somehow.
~~~~~~~
Abby shook her head to clear away the memory of earlier this evening. How dare he ask that of her? She was not going to belong to any man; she was her own. She'd not be a puppet like her poor drunk, drugged-out, weak willed mother. Always so anxious to please her father, and then her new husband. Never believing that she had the right to argue a decision he made. Never seeing what he was doing to her children... refusing to believe what was right before her eyes. No. Not even for Connor would she do that. Why could he not be happy with what they had? Did she really need to marry him? She'd seen firsthand that marriages only destroyed a relationship.
She made sure she had his attention, the flare of anger making her reckless. She made a show of flouncing off to the little mostly empty dance floor with Jess. Again, showing a flash of thigh. When one of the men from the pub started dancing with her, he’d finally had it. He’d reached his limit. He stalked across the floor and grabbed her by the upper arm, dragging her along behind him out the back door and into the alley, ignoring her protests that she was having fun.
Connor let go if her once they reached the alley, “Are you finished with me then?”
Her mouth was open, an angry diatribe on her tongue, but it died as she heard his words. Abby paled; she hadn’t meant for it to go this far. He’d just made her so angry… arguing with her. She’d been stubborn, refusing to tell him what he needed to hear. Refusing to even try to explain. She closed her eyes; she saw his face as it had been in that moment, broken and confused, and the pain...
She opened her mouth to tell him that no, of course she wasn’t finished with him, but what came out was “What will you do if I say yes?”
His jaw tightened. It was a mockery of what had started the argument to begin with. If she’d just said yes. If she’d only could say yes…
Abby hated herself. She had to muck things up, every time. Once someone got too close, she had to do or say something to spoil it. She could have handled things so much better, could have explained it to him. She could have given him the chance to understand. Too late now. It was done. She hadn’t been able to get away from him, and vice versa in the Cretaceous, but now he was free to move on. He should. She couldn't marry him... couldn't do that to them. She’d not hold him to her; if he wanted more than she was willing to give, he'd have to get it elsewhere. She stood defiantly, her chin up, facing him down like it meant nothing if he left her there.
It meant everything.
He crushed his mouth to hers, pressing her against the brick wall as he molded his body to hers. Her body responded instantly to the sheer passion of his touch, the ferocity of his love, the need. His hand was under her little skirt, his long slender fingers toying with her clit as he unfastened his belt and zip and let his thick cock spring free.
“Oh, I’ll make you say yes,” he growled as he positioned himself at her slick entrance.
She didn't know if he meant to his proposal, or to his question in the alley, or if he just wanted to give her something to say yes to. Perhaps it was all three. God, he was touching her, and his body was hard and hot, and the look in his eyes... gone black in the darkness in the alley but so full of emotion... she could hardly think.
His dark eyes bored into hers as he slammed himself home in one hard thrust. She cried out at the sudden invasion. He usually gave her some time to adjust to his considerable girth, but not this time. He'd seen the answer in her eyes and he'd seized it, not taking chances that she would change her mind and push him away. He fucked her hard against the wall, every thrust an expression of the deep anger... no, it was hurt, still coiling through him. He would make her see… he had to.
“Connor…” she breathed.
“Say it!” he demanded.
Abby’s eyes rolled back in her head as wave after wave of ecstasy rolled through her. This was Connor, and he loved her, and even at his absolute worst he was the best man she'd even known, and she loved him. She would trust him. He would never take what wasn't freely offered; she'd not become her mother because of a ring on her finger, and he'd not become a monster.
“Say it!”
“Yes. Yes! Yes, yes, yes, yes, Connor.”
With one hoarse cry and another thrust of his hips, he emptied into her, his body shaking as the adrenaline and the remnants of the orgasm afterglow washed through him.
“Yes?” he asked, his voice breaking.
Abby clung to him, her face buried in his neck, tears wet on her face, “Yes. I will.”
END
A/N: Well, as far as fluffy proposals go, this isn't one, but I loved the idea of this so I had to write it down. I do hope you'll tell me what you think?