Tex lets him take her hand, folding her fingers into his and drawing herself a little closer to him.
"Messaging you every time I'm horny?" she says, skeptically. "You mean whenever something would happen otherwise." It's an accusation, but it also...kind of makes sense. Which she hates.
"Or something. I didn't say it was a good idea. It was the first thing that came to mind." Look if wants a genius answer, she's going to have to wait. He doesn't exactly think his best thoughts when he's caught up in lots of feelings. Usually they're more of the 'epically idiotic' variety.
Still, he smiles warmly, encouraged by her hand in his. The fact she didn't outright reject the idea doesn't hurt either.
"But, it might help to actually talk about stuff. It doesn't have to be 'sex addict intervention' or anything like that." He tries to keep his tone lighter. He's mostly teasing with the 'sex addict' bit.
What she did still hurts, he doubts it'll stop hurting anytime soon. But it's also not an unfamiliar sort of pain and he's genuinely encouraged by her being honest with him. And he's a giant lovesick idiot who desperately wants things to work out. So...
"If it gets me another chance to talk to you? It's better than gold."
She lets out a little chuckle. She normally only calls once or twice a week. This is going to get him a lot more contact with her. She doesn't think he knows just how much this promise will change things, as far as that goes.
He has no idea. Not a clue. Maybe she'll call him a couple extra times during the month?
He's generally able to lose himself in his work and studies to a certain degree when she's gone. It's not that he becomes completely disinterested, just distracted enough that his temptations are rare and easier to push away. He stays busy to avoid getting busy, so to speak.
She sets her beer on the table and reaches to wrap her arms around him. She doesn't deserve his forgiveness, she knows, but she'll take it. She will take it.
She's not entirely forgiven, not yet. It's difficult because he wants to forgive her and put this behind them but... well, the next months will go a long way towards fixing things. He closes his eyes tightly as he holds her and fights to keep his breathing calm and steady. He's done a really good job of keeping his shit together.
"I know you don't necessarily want to hear it. But I do love you Allison." He says it softly, without any expectation of her response. After all, he's the mushy emotional one, not her.
Her reaction is subtle and probably expected—she stiffens slightly, her abdomen going tight, and she draws in a breath. Not as sharp a breath as she took the first time he did this to her, but it is noticeable, and she knows it. She leans in against his shoulder and takes a couple deep breaths.
She kind of forgets until she does that how good she thinks he smells. It's a sense memory that causes her to close her eyes and set her head down against him all the way.
"Me, too," she mutters after another pause, practically a whisper. That's the closest he's gotten to her saying those three words in a good long while. She opens her eyes then, looking at his neck. She hates how it makes her feel to admit it, but at the same time it's nice to know it makes him feel good to hear it.
He knows it bothers her, which is why he doesn't say it often. But this feels like an appropriate time. Maybe someday the idea of being loved by him won't make her want to flinch. Clearly today isn't that day.
She does relax a lot faster this time. That's progress, right? It seems like progress.
"You don't have to say that." He'd rather she didn't if she was only doing it to make him feel better.
He can't say anything in response to that. Instead he squeezes his eyes shut and holds her closer, lightly pressing his cheek to her head.
All he can do is hold her. Eventually, reality has to interrupt. "You probably have to go back soon." His quiet voice is one of acceptance rather than disappointment.
Acknowledging that does not mean she's going to move quite yet. Giving a farewell this time seems like it's going to be different and she doesn't want to quite yet.
He's more than happy to keep holding her until she's ready. She's so rarely willing to just hold and be held by him, that he wants to make the most of it. He just soaks it in for a while before speaking up again.
"I can take you back if you like... you know, so you don't have to wait for a ride." So they can squeeze in a few more moments if she wants.
There's a moment of almost painful awkwardness when she pulls away. Part of him wants to do something at least vaguely comforting, but he knows that wouldn't go over well. So he figures the best thing to do is to give her some space so she can keep her dignity or something. "I uh, I gotta take a piss before we go."
He let's her have some privacy while he deals with the consequences of downing a few beers.
"Go, then," she says, not turning towards him. She's busy with this nose-blowing business.
While he's gone she throws the tissue away and washes her hands. Then she stays hovering near the door, considering the consequences of what she'd done and how the future would look now.
When she hears the toilet flush and he returns, she finally turns to face him.
He splashes some cold water on his face, hoping to reduce the 'close to tears' look on his face. Fuck, he hopes he's doing the right thing. He wants it to be the right thing. But is it because of stubbornness or love? He dries himself off and takes a deep breath before stepping out.
"I'm not drunk." He can't help but scowl at the suggestion. Okay sure, he had a couple, but he's not a damn featherweight. "Besides, I'll still have to drive back. So what's the point?"
He's either drunk or close to tears. Or both. Judging from the redness on his face and around his eyes.
"Leonard," she says, approaching him. What she's going to do or say when she gets there, she's unsure, but she reaches him a moment later and has to decide.
Normally she'd pick a fight about how he's clearly drunk, but she's not really very sure that's what it is. Her hands go to his face, and she cups his cheeks, the smooths her fingers back through his hair.
What she means to say, she can't say. She wraps her arms the rest of the way around his shoulders and sighs. Her lips move a little bit, unconsciously signalling that she does have something on her mind.
He can probably guess what, too.
"Oh," she mutters, and leans in to press her forehead against his. He's not going to want a kiss, she figures, so she doesn't really signal that that's what she desires now. He's taller than her, so if he rejects this overture, she's going to look pretty stupid. But maybe he won't.
He's fully expecting a fight and steels himself for it. But when it doesn't happen, it catches him completely off guard. Instead he's left blinking numbly for a moment as it sinks in and his face softens.
When she holds him the tension in his body finally relaxes. A wave of relief washes over him with her gesture and he lets her rest her forehead on his. It's exactly the sort of reassurance that he needed.
"It's fine... I'm fine." He takes a shaky breath. "It's just been... a lot. You know?"
"I know you will." He nods faintly against her, not wanting to break contact. He believes her... at least to try. And honestly, for now it's enough. But he's coming down from a lot of very intense emotions, stress and just enough alcohol to bring it all to a head.
He takes a couple of deep breaths before speaking again. He doesn't mean to be emotionally brittle like this and frankly if he wasn't so tired he'd find it embarrassing.
"And you really are sometimes." There isn't any malice to the words. He's trying to lighten the mood in his own asshole-ish way. He rubs her arms softly to emphasize that.
She smiles faintly, and tilts her head away from his so she can bring the embrace in closer. She rests her head on his shoulder and breathes in his scent.
She does love him. She just needs to commit to him. The thing is, that's the fucking scary part.
"Yeah." He sighs and takes a second longer to try to commit the moment to memory. The softness of her hair, the warmth of her body, her scent... all the little details that will carry him through the coming months.
"I'll get my keys." He does just that, letting her go once again. It's only six months... hell, he's starting to get used to it. Almost.
He lets her lead the way, pausing to lock the door behind them.
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hexaflexagons2020-07-16 12:19 am
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"Messaging you every time I'm horny?" she says, skeptically. "You mean whenever something would happen otherwise." It's an accusation, but it also...kind of makes sense. Which she hates.
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Still, he smiles warmly, encouraged by her hand in his. The fact she didn't outright reject the idea doesn't hurt either.
"But, it might help to actually talk about stuff. It doesn't have to be 'sex addict intervention' or anything like that." He tries to keep his tone lighter. He's mostly teasing with the 'sex addict' bit.
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"You really think you've hit gold, don't you?" she teases. "All right. When I'm really, really tempted...I'll call you."
It's actually more than what he's asking for, but maybe it's the right way to go with this.
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"If it gets me another chance to talk to you? It's better than gold."
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"You mean that?"
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He has no idea. Not a clue. Maybe she'll call him a couple extra times during the month?
He's generally able to lose himself in his work and studies to a certain degree when she's gone. It's not that he becomes completely disinterested, just distracted enough that his temptations are rare and easier to push away. He stays busy to avoid getting busy, so to speak.
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"I know you don't necessarily want to hear it. But I do love you Allison." He says it softly, without any expectation of her response. After all, he's the mushy emotional one, not her.
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She kind of forgets until she does that how good she thinks he smells. It's a sense memory that causes her to close her eyes and set her head down against him all the way.
"Me, too," she mutters after another pause, practically a whisper. That's the closest he's gotten to her saying those three words in a good long while. She opens her eyes then, looking at his neck. She hates how it makes her feel to admit it, but at the same time it's nice to know it makes him feel good to hear it.
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She does relax a lot faster this time. That's progress, right? It seems like progress.
"You don't have to say that." He'd rather she didn't if she was only doing it to make him feel better.
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All he can do is hold her. Eventually, reality has to interrupt. "You probably have to go back soon." His quiet voice is one of acceptance rather than disappointment.
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Acknowledging that does not mean she's going to move quite yet. Giving a farewell this time seems like it's going to be different and she doesn't want to quite yet.
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"I can take you back if you like... you know, so you don't have to wait for a ride." So they can squeeze in a few more moments if she wants.
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He let's her have some privacy while he deals with the consequences of downing a few beers.
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While he's gone she throws the tissue away and washes her hands. Then she stays hovering near the door, considering the consequences of what she'd done and how the future would look now.
When she hears the toilet flush and he returns, she finally turns to face him.
"Do I need to drive?"
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"I'm not drunk." He can't help but scowl at the suggestion. Okay sure, he had a couple, but he's not a damn featherweight. "Besides, I'll still have to drive back. So what's the point?"
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"Leonard," she says, approaching him. What she's going to do or say when she gets there, she's unsure, but she reaches him a moment later and has to decide.
Normally she'd pick a fight about how he's clearly drunk, but she's not really very sure that's what it is. Her hands go to his face, and she cups his cheeks, the smooths her fingers back through his hair.
What she means to say, she can't say. She wraps her arms the rest of the way around his shoulders and sighs. Her lips move a little bit, unconsciously signalling that she does have something on her mind.
He can probably guess what, too.
"Oh," she mutters, and leans in to press her forehead against his. He's not going to want a kiss, she figures, so she doesn't really signal that that's what she desires now. He's taller than her, so if he rejects this overture, she's going to look pretty stupid. But maybe he won't.
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When she holds him the tension in his body finally relaxes. A wave of relief washes over him with her gesture and he lets her rest her forehead on his. It's exactly the sort of reassurance that he needed.
"It's fine... I'm fine." He takes a shaky breath. "It's just been... a lot. You know?"
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She knows that's what he means. She feels him melt in against her and it softens her heart even more.
"Leonard, I..."
She smooths her fingers through his hair, in the same way as before.
"I'm going to do this. I promise you."
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He takes a couple of deep breaths before speaking again. He doesn't mean to be emotionally brittle like this and frankly if he wasn't so tired he'd find it embarrassing.
"And you really are sometimes." There isn't any malice to the words. He's trying to lighten the mood in his own asshole-ish way. He rubs her arms softly to emphasize that.
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She does love him. She just needs to commit to him. The thing is, that's the fucking scary part.
Eventually she pulls away.
"We do have to go."
Stupid cat...
"I'll get my keys." He does just that, letting her go once again. It's only six months... hell, he's starting to get used to it. Almost.
He lets her lead the way, pausing to lock the door behind them.