FF: Love of Her
Title: Love of Her
Show: Life
Category: Post-ep, post-series
Rating: PG
Notes: This is actually a post-ep for "Serious Control Issues", disguised as a post-series fic. You don't even have to have finish Season 1 to understand what's going on.
They left LA after it was over. After it was really and completely over, not just sort of over or nearly over. It seemed the prudent thing to do. They needed time for things to settle down and they needed time to figure out what they wanted to do next. Not that it wasn't obvious. He was a cop through and through and so was she. Still, it was nice to pretend that nothing was a given.
She once said that if she had his money, she would be on a beach somewhere. Well, she has his money now. Granted, he came with it, but that was the whole point as far as she's concerned. All it really meant was that she made sure that she packed extra sunscreen.
So here they were on the patio of their rented ocean-side villa with a pitcher of sangria between them. Well, sangria where fruit juice had been substituted for wine which probably couldn't be called sangria at all, but it's not like the booze was its main attraction. Charlie would drink just about anything that had fruit pieces as a main ingredient and her poor relationship with alcohol didn't need to be an obstacle to that.
It was relaxing. She would even go so far as to say it was peaceful, if Charlie would just shut up for a minute. She was used to his blathering on and on, of course, and by now it was actually comforting. But she wasn't about to admit that.
"Are you even listening?" he finally asked.
"Not really. No," she said, her eyes closed behind her sunglasses. She could still feel his glare of frustration anyway and had to keep herself from smiling.
"I was talking about the importance of expressing your feelings for others."
"Ah. That again." One of his favorite subjects lately was trying to get her to say that she loved him. Not that there was any doubt that she did. It's just that she's never actually said it. Not verbally, at least.
"What do you mean, 'that again'?"
"Trying to get me to admit to things I don't feel."
"Oh, you love me," he said, smugly.
"Yeah?"
"Yes."
"You sure about that?"
"Yes. You haven't killed me yet, for one thing."
"I electrocuted you once."
"Hmmm, true. But you didn't love me back then, so it doesn't count."
"You sure about that?" she inquired, shooting him a look over her sunglasses and his eyes crinkled with amusement.
She thinks he probably enjoys this game of theirs even more than she does. It's gotten them through some very dark times. But now that it's over, really over, she knows that they don't need their game anymore.
And, joking aside, she's pretty sure he would like to hear the words. But she's stubborn and admitting that she loves him would be too much like admitting defeat, at this point. She would if he asked her seriously, but she knows that's not going to happen. It would be too much like admitting defeat for him.
Hours later, when all that's left of the pseudo-sangria was a couple of empty glasses and he'd mercifully fallen asleep, she gets up to get a bottle of water. She looks over at him to check that he was still safe from the sun. (Because she now knows for a fact that he doesn't tan. He burns.) Something about him lying there makes the corner of her mouth quirk. She leans down over him, so that's she hovering near his ear.
"I love you madly, Charlie Crews."
She doesn't need to watch the corners of his mouth spread wide across his face to know that he's heard her.
Show: Life
Category: Post-ep, post-series
Rating: PG
Notes: This is actually a post-ep for "Serious Control Issues", disguised as a post-series fic. You don't even have to have finish Season 1 to understand what's going on.
They left LA after it was over. After it was really and completely over, not just sort of over or nearly over. It seemed the prudent thing to do. They needed time for things to settle down and they needed time to figure out what they wanted to do next. Not that it wasn't obvious. He was a cop through and through and so was she. Still, it was nice to pretend that nothing was a given.
She once said that if she had his money, she would be on a beach somewhere. Well, she has his money now. Granted, he came with it, but that was the whole point as far as she's concerned. All it really meant was that she made sure that she packed extra sunscreen.
So here they were on the patio of their rented ocean-side villa with a pitcher of sangria between them. Well, sangria where fruit juice had been substituted for wine which probably couldn't be called sangria at all, but it's not like the booze was its main attraction. Charlie would drink just about anything that had fruit pieces as a main ingredient and her poor relationship with alcohol didn't need to be an obstacle to that.
It was relaxing. She would even go so far as to say it was peaceful, if Charlie would just shut up for a minute. She was used to his blathering on and on, of course, and by now it was actually comforting. But she wasn't about to admit that.
"Are you even listening?" he finally asked.
"Not really. No," she said, her eyes closed behind her sunglasses. She could still feel his glare of frustration anyway and had to keep herself from smiling.
"I was talking about the importance of expressing your feelings for others."
"Ah. That again." One of his favorite subjects lately was trying to get her to say that she loved him. Not that there was any doubt that she did. It's just that she's never actually said it. Not verbally, at least.
"What do you mean, 'that again'?"
"Trying to get me to admit to things I don't feel."
"Oh, you love me," he said, smugly.
"Yeah?"
"Yes."
"You sure about that?"
"Yes. You haven't killed me yet, for one thing."
"I electrocuted you once."
"Hmmm, true. But you didn't love me back then, so it doesn't count."
"You sure about that?" she inquired, shooting him a look over her sunglasses and his eyes crinkled with amusement.
She thinks he probably enjoys this game of theirs even more than she does. It's gotten them through some very dark times. But now that it's over, really over, she knows that they don't need their game anymore.
And, joking aside, she's pretty sure he would like to hear the words. But she's stubborn and admitting that she loves him would be too much like admitting defeat, at this point. She would if he asked her seriously, but she knows that's not going to happen. It would be too much like admitting defeat for him.
Hours later, when all that's left of the pseudo-sangria was a couple of empty glasses and he'd mercifully fallen asleep, she gets up to get a bottle of water. She looks over at him to check that he was still safe from the sun. (Because she now knows for a fact that he doesn't tan. He burns.) Something about him lying there makes the corner of her mouth quirk. She leans down over him, so that's she hovering near his ear.
"I love you madly, Charlie Crews."
She doesn't need to watch the corners of his mouth spread wide across his face to know that he's heard her.