OOM: Talk

[latino_menace]

It's felt awkward, to him. And he's kept his distance seeing as she was obviously upset and didn't want to talk about it anymore. He's confused, because he thought he was offering her what she wanted, and a bit put out that she dismissed the idea out of hand. Or so it seemed to him

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[justcallmefee]

They were supposed to go out for a walk around to the southern end of the island, trying to find the cove with the white sand beach. But his question this morning broadsided her. She ended up disappearing into the shower for a good long cry, and came back out in running gear. He was swimming, so she went for a run on the sand.

She hated running in sand. It was a struggle every step of the way. The metaphor didn't escape her. She was drenched and exhausted when she came back, but she laughed when she stooped to give him a kiss, pausing long enough to wipe the drop of sweat off his cheek.

"Let me get cleaned up and I'll make us some dinner."

She doesn't wait for an answer, just goes and returns a few minutes later, wearing a floor length halter dress, her hair pinned up off the back of her neck. She makes him a drink and brings it to him.

[latino_menace]

He takes it from her and doesn't meet her eyes. Doesn't even try to really; he seems engrossed in the book and appears happy enough to sit here and read and just be still.

He doesn't like not getting his own way. Even more than that, he hates not understanding why he can't have his own way. But he's not angry. Just...defeated, at the moment.

[justcallmefee]

She settles next to him, and after a moment, puts a hand on his arm.

"Caro..."

[latino_menace]

'What's for dinner?'

No, still not looking at her. Everything about his tone, demeanour, body language seems to suggest he plans on acting like nothing happened.

[justcallmefee]

Her shoulders fall.

(How could he possibly think she'd just say yes? Without even talking about it? How could he think that -- she'd just -- )

She gets up and moves back into the kitchen without answering his question.

[latino_menace]

His eyes follow her over the top of his glasses but he doesn't move his head, or get up to follow her. He doesn't know what he'd say, anyway. He's been trying to think of something to say all afternoon and is still coming up blank.

So, for now, he lets it be.

[justcallmefee]

She pours herself a large glass of wine and starts rummaging for something to fix for dinner.

This isn't how it's supposed to be between them.

She's tearing herself up inside for not laughing it off in the first place. (But the way he held her. " Mother of my child.")

Fiona's never been good at letting it be.

"Come keep me company while I cook?"

[latino_menace]

'I'm tired, Fi,' he returns.

And he does sound it.

'If you want to talk, come in here.'

The idea of anything so domestic as carrying on polite conversation while she makes dinner makes him balk. What's the point in playing happy families?

[justcallmefee]

She doesn't answer for a long time, moving around in the kitchen, throwing together a salad for her and a grilled sandwich for him.

She drinks the glass of wine and pours herself another.

His wounded pride is really the least of her worries right now.

(Not 'marry me', not 'I love you', just 'have my baby'.)

[latino_menace]

He finishes his tequila and goes back to his book, trying not to hear her moving around in there.

He'd like to talk about it rationally. But he can't see how it can happen; he gets confused, she starts crying. It's always the same.

Besides, he offered her what she said she wanted. And she said no. So he has no idea what he's supposed to say now.

[justcallmefee]

If he thinks about it, she didn't say no. She said it was impossible, she said it was insane, she pointed out all the ways it could go wrong. But she never said no.

She brings him his sandwich, setting it beside his drink before sitting beside him with her salad perched on her chest.

She tucks her legs under her when she sits, which lets her bare feet rest against his thigh.

[latino_menace]

'Thanks.'

He picks it up with one hand and doesn't stop reading. Or pretending to, anyway.

[justcallmefee]

She finishes her salad, and sets the bowl aside.

And then she turns and very careful to slide his bookmark in between the pages he's reading, takes the book away from him, setting it aside as well.

"Don't shut me out."

[latino_menace]

He lets her without resistance and puts down the half sandwich he has left.

'I'm not. I just don't know what you expect me to say.'

[justcallmefee]

"Something. Anything. Tell me I'm wearing too many clothes. Call me 'yours' again. Ask me why this scares me so much. Just don't shut me out."

[latino_menace]

He thinks back, briefly, to days where no one was scared of anything. Or if they were, they certainly didn't tell him about it.

Heaven.

'I'm not,' he repeats, without heat.

'I asked you, you said no. That's the end of it, isn't it?'