the_gene_genie | OOM: Kate, post-row

Entry tags:

kate barlow,
oom

OOM: Kate, post-row

He doesn't drag his feet on the way down to the stables, though he's still not sure this is a good idea. But, fact is, much as he's tried to ignore the last row, it won't go away. He's told himself he doesn't care until he's blue in the face, but he's called himself a liar too. And yeah, he was really angry and he's still pissed off when he thinks about it. But he's not as pissed off as he was, and there's a lot he doesn't understand.

Gene doesn't like not understanding things. And he has no intention of hiding away from her either. When he has a problem, he either buries it until it goes away (doesn't seem to be working), or he faces it head on. Seeing as the first option seems to be a non-starter, the second it is.

So there's no trepidation as he walks into the building. None of his usual striding arrogance either though.

'You in here?'

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His expression turns alarmed. Like, properly, genuinely alarmed.

'...what?'

He is not seriously going to have to get into this, is he? How is he supposed to know!?

'...dunno.'

She flicks her gaze to his.

Behind her eyes, volumes of arguments are turning their pages, a cacophony of unresolved paper flapping their jaws. Is this really what you want?

She blinks and it's gone, resettled to the pit of her stomach.

"I don't want you walkin' out on me again."

Her voice is dangerously low, threatening her own pride.

"Not like that."

He swivels his eyes towards her, barely moving his head.

'I don' want you smackin' me round the face again.'

His voice is neutral.

'Unless I really deserve it, anyway.'

"You'll find a way."

It's one of his few talents.

She jerks her head to request he come over. It's not demanding, or sharp, but as tentative as anything else she's said today.

He looks at her a long moment, then pushes off the doorframe with his shoulder and walks over. He doesnt try to touch her, but he does stand close, right up in her space.

Still, she keeps her eyes cast low, away from his face; even when he gets so close that all she can see is his awful tie. She pulls in a steadying breath, picking up his scent, and cautiously fingers the collar of his long jacket.

"It wasn't jus' my milliversary," she says quietly, coming back around to his earlier question. "It was my anniversary. Doc an' I, our anniversary. An' the one year mark of the day he left me."

Not something she would have otherwise committed to memory, if not for the bad timing.

"An' it's July, which makes me think of home an' the Fourth, an' Sam, an' Trout, an' ... and I jus' ... didn't want t'be alone. I didn't want t'spend the night alone."

She presses back against the wall, waiting for the volley.

He takes a moment to digest that. He knew there was more to it. And it's a tad annoying that she couldn't just tell him that in the first place, rather than all this kicking off.

'I would've stayed with you, without shaggin' you, if you'd just asked.'

"I wanted you."

Her fingers tighten ever so slightly.

Just not for the right reasons, probably.

"An' you're not exactly in a spot where y'can be lecturin' someone on communicatin'."

'Could've jus' said that, an' all.'

He takes the admonishment, but doesn't accept it. He doesn't know how much more direct he's supposed to be.

'Difference is, luv, nothin' I'm not sayin' is gettin' us into stuff like this.'

"Thats not fair."

She sighs, shaking her head minutely.

'...no.'

She's right.

He looks at her, pouting slightly as he thinks, and then reaches out, pushing a lock of her hair back over her shoulder with his finger.

That's not fair, either.

She watches his face as he touches her, trying to scrounge together the will to continue. But the words are still jumbled up. Fluttering pages. And when she pushes her hat off her head, there's only one thought on her mind.

Edited 2011-09-04 23:57 (UTC)

His hand withdraws, coming to rest on his hip. He looks at her silently, head tilted.

He really wants to kiss her. But he's a bit at sea as to whether that's allowed now or not. Mind you, he was always a bit unsure as to whether it was entirely welcome.

She's so much smaller than he is that it's nearly impossible to instigate a kiss without him meeting her halfway. But Kate doesn't pay much attention to odds. She runs a hand through her hair to knock out the hat-head, and then slips it around the back of his neck.

There's a slight tremor on her lips. She bites the inside of her lip to will it away, and, with less hesitation than before, she rises on her tiptoes.

Oh, well, he's never going to ignore a signal like that. Even before she's started rising he's leaning down to meet her, hands coming to rest on her waist.

He's careful - part of him still expects her to pull away - but there's no doubt that it's what he wants. Gentle, with an edge of more, and no sign that he's in any hurry to relinquish her lips.

She doesn't pull away, but it's a struggle that can be felt more than it can be seen. In the way she exhales just softly as he moves in, and the way her lips feather his before he deepens it. Careful, cautious, pulling back just once — and even then only minutely.

She relaxes after a moment, tension sliding out of her body slowly, like the slither of a sated snake. Her hand moves into his hair while her other arm curls around the back of his neck, and if that wasn't concurrence enough, the soft sigh she then releases gives away how unhurried she feels to stop.

He presses into her, just gently, bracing a hand on the wall behind her. It's been a rare thing for her to relax completely, so he's going to take advantage of it.

Plus, this is always easier than trying to talk through their shit.

With the press of his body and his hand on her hip, she comes to him involuntarily, pressing up against his thigh. Her stomach touches his and she shivers, a moan sliding off her tongue and into his mouth.

Talking will come eventually. It will have to. On the surface, it amuses and intrigues her how they can be such polar opposites when trying to communicate, but just like a magnet they're so strongly attracted physically. Deep down, the dissonance dungeons her, and fills her with frustration.

Her hat slips out of her hand, falling where it may. She holds onto him, snug but not clinging, her hand pulling though his hair, teasing.

Edited 2011-09-05 19:11 (UTC)

He breaks off eventually, less because he has to breathe than the fact that bending down to meet her is getting uncomfortable. Still, he stays close, lip to lip, breathing hard through his nose.

'Mmm. Well. We haven' lost that, then.'

"No."

Her lips pull into a brief grin. She brushes her thumb across his chin, tipping her head down until his lips are more at eye level.

"That's one thing we're not half bad at."

'It'll get better,' he says, and smirks, the usual mischievious look returning to his eye.

And then he straightens, but stays close in case she fancies a second helping.

'So. How long until you're back in Texas?'

"Mm."

She doesn't look so convinced — or, more accurately, she looks distracted. Her thumb pulls across his bottom lip, and then she drops her hands back to his lapel.

"I've already been. I ain't got no specific plans."

'Mmm. Well. When can we go, then?'

Keen? Him? Pffft.

She thinks on that one for a moment.

"When I'm done bein' mad at you."

Seems like a good place to start.

'Oh.'

He thinks on that a moment too. And then leans down and kisses her again.

'You be sure an' let me know when you're done with that, then.'

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