A/N: I can't lie, WiPs and I have a chequered history. So there might be sporadic moments with this. But I am still going.
He made sure that he knew what he was talking about before he spoke to Giselle about it. There had even been a furtive lunch hour down at the library, trying to find a book (with, he might say, a slightly questionable title and a picture which, though artistic, involved handcuffs) and photocopy the relevant pages before the librarian came over and asked what someone was doing in the section where every other book had the word sex in the title.
The thing was, he quickly realised, that it wasn't about sex. It was about boundaries, and roles, and decision making, and honesty.
Even Robert had to admit that the idea of honesty was a good one. It just wasn't something that seemed to appear too often in real life.
And so it was, over three weeks since he had found that first internet article and nearly two months since he and Giselle had fought (if fought was really the right word to use with Giselle) over whether or not she was happy with the roles that they were falling in to, he bought up the matter once again. This time with some of the things he had printed out, and hidden at the bottom of the wardrobe afterwards, laid out on the table.
"Please, Robert," Giselle said, looking slightly pained. "I don't want to argue again."
"No, no!" he said quickly. "I don't either. That's... why I want to talk." He swallowed, but pressed on quickly. "I wanted to say that I'm sorry for what I said. I shouldn't assume how you should want to be."
She was looking at him curiously, perhaps even slightly warily, which made him remember that she had by now been in New York for quite some time. Robert ran one hand through his hair; he was used to mediating, but not to actually being the one doing the apologising himself. It was so much easier when it was for a client instead.
"I'm sorry," he blurted, and Giselle's eyes widened slightly. "Really. I should have tried to understand more."
"Oh, Robert," she said, in that voice that sounded like she was about to swoon which usually meant that he'd done something terribly romantic, and she crossed the kitchen to fling her arms around his neck and kiss him on the cheek. He laughed nervously and stroked her cheek, then felt as if his heart was going to skip a beat when she looked down at the table. "What are these?"
"It's... it's something," Robert found himself replying, which whilst technically true was not an answer in any sense of the world. He nudged two of the chairs out from under the table with his foot, took hold of Giselle's hands, and drew her down to a seated position. "Giselle, I know that you've been learning a lot about this world, and about the people here. And I hope that we've been learning a lot about each other, too."
She nodded, encouragingly.
"Not everyone in this world is the same," he said. It felt refreshing, one could say cathartic, to be speaking the words aloud. "I had this image in my head that the perfect woman was... Marie Curie, or Amelia Earheart, or something. I was probably channelling Henry Higgins a little, to be honest."
Giselle frowned, and went to speak, but Robert caught himself with a chuckle and a shake of his head.
"I'll put the film on some time. The thing is... you are perfect, Giselle, just as you are. What you do, and what you say, and everything. I shouldn't presume that it would make you somehow better to be more, well, dominant," the word slipped out, but she didn't seem to notice it, and with heat rising in his cheeks he pushed on, "and I shouldn't presume that it would make you any less if you want to do... the things that you do for me."
His hands were shaking slightly, and he wasn't quite sure that he could remember the last time that he had spoken so frankly to anyone. Giselle moved her hands so that she was gripping his fingers a little more tightly, and was giving him a smile that was just slightly disbelieving, but so happy, even with the faintest sign of tears in her eyes. "Robert..." she said softly, half a sigh. "I don't know what to say."
"I wanted..." he drew one of his hands out of hers and went to pick up some of the sheets of paper. It had been on the tip of his tongue to say 'I wanted you to read these' but at the last moment, part of his mind interceded and placed new words there for him. "I wanted us to read these together. And then... talk some more. What do you say?"
It was like watching the sun rise as Giselle smiled, scooting her chair round so that she could sit close beside him instead. "I think that sounds very nice indeed, Robert."
He made sure that he knew what he was talking about before he spoke to Giselle about it. There had even been a furtive lunch hour down at the library, trying to find a book (with, he might say, a slightly questionable title and a picture which, though artistic, involved handcuffs) and photocopy the relevant pages before the librarian came over and asked what someone was doing in the section where every other book had the word sex in the title.
The thing was, he quickly realised, that it wasn't about sex. It was about boundaries, and roles, and decision making, and honesty.
Even Robert had to admit that the idea of honesty was a good one. It just wasn't something that seemed to appear too often in real life.
And so it was, over three weeks since he had found that first internet article and nearly two months since he and Giselle had fought (if fought was really the right word to use with Giselle) over whether or not she was happy with the roles that they were falling in to, he bought up the matter once again. This time with some of the things he had printed out, and hidden at the bottom of the wardrobe afterwards, laid out on the table.
"Please, Robert," Giselle said, looking slightly pained. "I don't want to argue again."
"No, no!" he said quickly. "I don't either. That's... why I want to talk." He swallowed, but pressed on quickly. "I wanted to say that I'm sorry for what I said. I shouldn't assume how you should want to be."
She was looking at him curiously, perhaps even slightly warily, which made him remember that she had by now been in New York for quite some time. Robert ran one hand through his hair; he was used to mediating, but not to actually being the one doing the apologising himself. It was so much easier when it was for a client instead.
"I'm sorry," he blurted, and Giselle's eyes widened slightly. "Really. I should have tried to understand more."
"Oh, Robert," she said, in that voice that sounded like she was about to swoon which usually meant that he'd done something terribly romantic, and she crossed the kitchen to fling her arms around his neck and kiss him on the cheek. He laughed nervously and stroked her cheek, then felt as if his heart was going to skip a beat when she looked down at the table. "What are these?"
"It's... it's something," Robert found himself replying, which whilst technically true was not an answer in any sense of the world. He nudged two of the chairs out from under the table with his foot, took hold of Giselle's hands, and drew her down to a seated position. "Giselle, I know that you've been learning a lot about this world, and about the people here. And I hope that we've been learning a lot about each other, too."
She nodded, encouragingly.
"Not everyone in this world is the same," he said. It felt refreshing, one could say cathartic, to be speaking the words aloud. "I had this image in my head that the perfect woman was... Marie Curie, or Amelia Earheart, or something. I was probably channelling Henry Higgins a little, to be honest."
Giselle frowned, and went to speak, but Robert caught himself with a chuckle and a shake of his head.
"I'll put the film on some time. The thing is... you are perfect, Giselle, just as you are. What you do, and what you say, and everything. I shouldn't presume that it would make you somehow better to be more, well, dominant," the word slipped out, but she didn't seem to notice it, and with heat rising in his cheeks he pushed on, "and I shouldn't presume that it would make you any less if you want to do... the things that you do for me."
His hands were shaking slightly, and he wasn't quite sure that he could remember the last time that he had spoken so frankly to anyone. Giselle moved her hands so that she was gripping his fingers a little more tightly, and was giving him a smile that was just slightly disbelieving, but so happy, even with the faintest sign of tears in her eyes. "Robert..." she said softly, half a sigh. "I don't know what to say."
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It was like watching the sun rise as Giselle smiled, scooting her chair round so that she could sit close beside him instead. "I think that sounds very nice indeed, Robert."
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