(no subject)
It's been a long time and a lot of inconsequential words. But this is for docfraiser8. She knows why. (There's also a line for soaked_in_stars. You'll know it when you see it, face.)
He wishes it were raining.
Heavy, cold drops, that drown in a heartbeat, leaving clothes sticking to skin.
Pounding against his head, running down his face, dripping off his beard or trickling down his neck before seeping under his collar, soaking his shirt from the inside out.
The rain would be his atonement, cleansing his soul, washing the black day away. Rain of the morning, that had kept him awake, forced him out of bed in the early hours and into work. Through cold water into scalding hot.
He’d walked home without a jacket, hoping it would tempt fate, as if somehow his jacketless state would give him some sort of apocalyptic storm-summoning powers.
The warm breeze taunts the curls at the nape of his neck as he rounds the corner to his apartment.
He almost falls over her, which is strange, given her not inconsiderable length. Or more specifically the impossible length of her legs which are stretched out now in front of her down the steps, crossed at the ankles, impeding his access to his front door, as she looks up from the paper she is reading.
“Hey.” She smiles, folds up the paper.
“Hey”. He looks down at her, confusion creasing his brow.
“I hear you tried to fix social security,” Her eyes are open and innocent, though her words belie her.
“What are you doing here?” he rubs a hand over his eye.
“Hearing about your plan to fix social security.”
“Apparently not,” he replies, eyebrow raised. He watches her for a moment.
They say so much more when they say nothing. They always did.
He gently kicks her foot and she smiles lazily as she draws her legs up the steps. She props her elbow on her knees and cups her chin in her hand as he wearily sags onto the step beside her, brushing his hands with a slight look of distaste.
“So?”
“We’re not having this conversation.”
“Well one of us may not be.”
He turns to give her one of his looks. Hers are just as effective. He shrugs.
“Does this story start with “You couldn’t sleep?” she asks.
It wasn’t what he was expecting, and he shifts to look at her.
“You never could sleep when it rained. You should move to Arizona.”
“I may get sent there if it gets out.” He bites at his lip, the words slipping out unguarded.
“Like that, huh? You went out for a home run with all the bases loaded and the coach got pissed?”
“That’s one sports metaphor too far. Even for you, Orioles girl.”
She nudges him with her knee.
“What happened” she asks quietly.
“You know, there are some things I can’t talk to you about,” he says, frustration bubbling.
“There always were. But I learnt that the things you say you can’t talk about tend to be the things you think you shouldn’t say.”
“Don’t…just….” He breaks off, lowers his forehead against his clasped hands and fixes his eyes on the steps below him. He watches as the breeze plays with some leaves.
“I saw you talking with Gaines. And then with Brainerd. Gaines stood up.”
He lifts his head to look at her. “What are you, the Capitol police?”
“Is this to do with Jim Carney?”
“Don’t go there.”
“Why not? You did.” She winces as she sees his misinterpretation of her words. “I didn’t mean it that way. God, Toby, you really need to stop carrying your baggage around..”
He silences her with a look and returns to staring at the leaves.
She rubs a finger against his arm, watches the hairs rising at her touch.
“It was you, wasn’t it.” He has no response forthcoming, so she continues. Continues to touch him, to unravel the day within and without.
“You joined the dots and you took it to Jed. And you had to coax and cajole him before he let you run with the ball.”
“And again with the sports.” His eyes don’t move, but he leans ever so slightly into her touch, as one finger gives way to a hand.
“Does Josh know what he’s done?”
He shrugs, and her hand slides into the crook of his elbow, her long fingers leaving a trail of warmth.
“Why aren’t you all getting drunk in Sam’s office? It’s still a good result.” Her thumb is still a perfect fit in the hollow of his arm.
“Can’t celebrate a win when it’s just a draw.”
“You don’t need public gratification. Never been your style, Toby.”
“I went out on a limb. I thought it was worth it. I thought it was the right thing.”
She frowns for a moment, taking in his words, piecing it together once more.
“You were told to keep it close hold.” She all but whispers the words, but can tell by the feel of him under her hand that she is right. “From all of them? Leo?” she asks, astonished.
He looks at her full on. Her green eyes are warmer than the air against his skin.
“Yeah.”
“Even CJ?”
“Yeah. Mostly. Out on a limb. Just… out there.”
She rests her cheek against his shoulder. He feels cold.
““Ain't no use in worrying about how much more work we can do”” she sings quietly.
He smiles at the reference, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “”We'll just keep doing what we're doing And the world will come around.”
She sits up, a finger tracing the edges of his beard. “You know it’s true, though. I know you feel like its some secret you’re going to have to hold close forever. It’ll burrow into you, Toby. Just let it go. You won’t ever stand alone with anything, Toby. When you’re the last man standing, look around and you’ll see me.”
He kisses her then, and she is warmth and complete. Familiar yet remembered and he wakes as her tongue pushes against his. Slow and easy and together. It’s a long slow moment that lasts forever but he wishes it were longer still as she gently pulls back and smiles at him.
He looks up at the sky.
It begins to rain.
He wishes it were raining.
Heavy, cold drops, that drown in a heartbeat, leaving clothes sticking to skin.
Pounding against his head, running down his face, dripping off his beard or trickling down his neck before seeping under his collar, soaking his shirt from the inside out.
The rain would be his atonement, cleansing his soul, washing the black day away. Rain of the morning, that had kept him awake, forced him out of bed in the early hours and into work. Through cold water into scalding hot.
He’d walked home without a jacket, hoping it would tempt fate, as if somehow his jacketless state would give him some sort of apocalyptic storm-summoning powers.
The warm breeze taunts the curls at the nape of his neck as he rounds the corner to his apartment.
He almost falls over her, which is strange, given her not inconsiderable length. Or more specifically the impossible length of her legs which are stretched out now in front of her down the steps, crossed at the ankles, impeding his access to his front door, as she looks up from the paper she is reading.
“Hey.” She smiles, folds up the paper.
“Hey”. He looks down at her, confusion creasing his brow.
“I hear you tried to fix social security,” Her eyes are open and innocent, though her words belie her.
“What are you doing here?” he rubs a hand over his eye.
“Hearing about your plan to fix social security.”
“Apparently not,” he replies, eyebrow raised. He watches her for a moment.
They say so much more when they say nothing. They always did.
He gently kicks her foot and she smiles lazily as she draws her legs up the steps. She props her elbow on her knees and cups her chin in her hand as he wearily sags onto the step beside her, brushing his hands with a slight look of distaste.
“So?”
“We’re not having this conversation.”
“Well one of us may not be.”
He turns to give her one of his looks. Hers are just as effective. He shrugs.
“Does this story start with “You couldn’t sleep?” she asks.
It wasn’t what he was expecting, and he shifts to look at her.
“You never could sleep when it rained. You should move to Arizona.”
“I may get sent there if it gets out.” He bites at his lip, the words slipping out unguarded.
“Like that, huh? You went out for a home run with all the bases loaded and the coach got pissed?”
“That’s one sports metaphor too far. Even for you, Orioles girl.”
She nudges him with her knee.
“What happened” she asks quietly.
“You know, there are some things I can’t talk to you about,” he says, frustration bubbling.
“There always were. But I learnt that the things you say you can’t talk about tend to be the things you think you shouldn’t say.”
“Don’t…just….” He breaks off, lowers his forehead against his clasped hands and fixes his eyes on the steps below him. He watches as the breeze plays with some leaves.
“I saw you talking with Gaines. And then with Brainerd. Gaines stood up.”
He lifts his head to look at her. “What are you, the Capitol police?”
“Is this to do with Jim Carney?”
“Don’t go there.”
“Why not? You did.” She winces as she sees his misinterpretation of her words. “I didn’t mean it that way. God, Toby, you really need to stop carrying your baggage around..”
He silences her with a look and returns to staring at the leaves.
She rubs a finger against his arm, watches the hairs rising at her touch.
“It was you, wasn’t it.” He has no response forthcoming, so she continues. Continues to touch him, to unravel the day within and without.
“You joined the dots and you took it to Jed. And you had to coax and cajole him before he let you run with the ball.”
“And again with the sports.” His eyes don’t move, but he leans ever so slightly into her touch, as one finger gives way to a hand.
“Does Josh know what he’s done?”
He shrugs, and her hand slides into the crook of his elbow, her long fingers leaving a trail of warmth.
“Why aren’t you all getting drunk in Sam’s office? It’s still a good result.” Her thumb is still a perfect fit in the hollow of his arm.
“Can’t celebrate a win when it’s just a draw.”
“You don’t need public gratification. Never been your style, Toby.”
“I went out on a limb. I thought it was worth it. I thought it was the right thing.”
She frowns for a moment, taking in his words, piecing it together once more.
“You were told to keep it close hold.” She all but whispers the words, but can tell by the feel of him under her hand that she is right. “From all of them? Leo?” she asks, astonished.
He looks at her full on. Her green eyes are warmer than the air against his skin.
“Yeah.”
“Even CJ?”
“Yeah. Mostly. Out on a limb. Just… out there.”
She rests her cheek against his shoulder. He feels cold.
““Ain't no use in worrying about how much more work we can do”” she sings quietly.
He smiles at the reference, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “”We'll just keep doing what we're doing And the world will come around.”
She sits up, a finger tracing the edges of his beard. “You know it’s true, though. I know you feel like its some secret you’re going to have to hold close forever. It’ll burrow into you, Toby. Just let it go. You won’t ever stand alone with anything, Toby. When you’re the last man standing, look around and you’ll see me.”
He kisses her then, and she is warmth and complete. Familiar yet remembered and he wakes as her tongue pushes against his. Slow and easy and together. It’s a long slow moment that lasts forever but he wishes it were longer still as she gently pulls back and smiles at him.
He looks up at the sky.
It begins to rain.