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.

So he'd gone for a swim and read a book and almost took the boat out but, in the end, didn't. And now it's evening and he has another book, which he's skimming through on the sofa in the lounge. Another warm evening, no sound out there but the waves and breeze. This place is getting too quiet for him.

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[justcallmefee]

She pulls back just enough to look up into his face, her palm coming up to rest on his jaw. Her green eyes search his face and she looks like she's about to say something, but thinks better of it.

Instead, she rises on her tiptoes and kisses the corner of his mouth, just a chaste brush of her lips.

"A chuisle."

[latino_menace]

He smiles at her a little then loosens his hold on her. Conversations like this always drain him.

'I don't know about you, but I need a drink.'

[justcallmefee]

She laughs a little, lowering her gaze to his chest again, nodding.

"Whiskey," she murmurs. "And a straw."

[latino_menace]

'A straw?'

She must want to get wasted. Which is just fine with him.

'...you'll have to let go of me if you want me to go get it.'

[justcallmefee]

She lets him go, noticing the stiffness in her hands as he slips from her grip.

Forty years old.

Have my baby, Fi.

She drags her hands through her hair, wondering what the hell just happened.

"I'm gonna -- go wash my face. Meet you in the jacuzzi?"

[latino_menace]

'Sure.'

He's a little taken aback by her wanting to get in there with him but happy enough about it. So he blanks his mind of everything and just makes the drinks, following her down eventually.

'Here.'

One triple whiskey, no ice. He sets his tequila down and strips methodically, sliding in next to her without saying more.

[justcallmefee]

"Thanks."

She smiles up at him and takes a big swallow before setting it aside, settling back to let the hot water and bubbles pound the ache out of her muscles.

Under the water, her bare feet find his, tangling gently, just needing to touch him.

[latino_menace]

And he lets her, no objection. He's content to just sit here and drink, and not say anything.

It's always difficult for him to slide back into normality after conversations like that. It seems bizarre to just go back to talking about banal things but he doesn't want to touch on difficult things again. So he's sort of stuck in limbo, usually until the next morning. A night's sleep generally clears his head enough to get past it.

[justcallmefee]

Eventually, she finishes her drink and moves to curl up next to him.

No words necessary. She just wants to feel his skin against hers.

[latino_menace]

And that? Is something he's never not going to be fine with.