[oom] 3x07 (iv)

[lady_bols]

Whenever Alex needs a moment to gather her thoughts, she writes.  Usually, her notes are disjointed, a noun here, a verb there.  Names, places, emotions.  She prefers to use the tape to keep her journal.  It's easier when she thinks she's talking to someone else. (Molly.  Where is Molly now?  Where is Gene?)

He's down there with his team, but she knows he'll be coming up those stairs soon.  She's left her shoes on, tidied up the place a bit, actually made the bed for once.  Not that she's slept in it for months.  

She feels him before she hears the knock at the door.  Like a change in the air just before a summer storm, or that sensation you get when know someone else is in the room even if you can't see them.  He has a presence about him.  Always has.  

She puts her notebook away in the bookshelf, and crosses the living room to her front door.  For some reason, she checks the peephole at the door, even though she already knows who it is.  She's not sure why, but the butterflies in her stomach feel more like fear than anticipation.

Comments

[the_gene_genie]

He’s glad she doesn’t fall for his deflection. Because when she says ‘no’, he gives in. This is what he wants, and it’s OK to let it show. It’s the most natural thing in the world to tilt his head to the side, and give her room to rest on his shoulder. It’s the most natural thing in the world to let her settle on him, and then lock them together with his cheek nearly brushing her hair. The nerves subside finally, turn to excitement because this is right, and it’s OK to listen to the music, and enjoy her body against his. Just as, a long moment later, it feels right to turn his head, and press a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead.

[lady_bols]

She feels that kiss, and it aches, somewhere down deep in her heart. It feels like hello and goodbye all tangled up in one, and she doesn't want it to end.

But it has to, because that's not the kind of kiss she wants from him. She doesn't want chaste, and safe. She doesn't want comforting. She wants so much more, and after a moment, she decides she's done waiting. Her eyes open, and she lifts her head again, seeking out his gaze. Willing him to feel this, too, before it overwhelms her.

[the_gene_genie]

He feels it too. Just before her head comes up, there’s a moment when his cheek rests against her forehead and he just breathes. Relief, and desire, and then she looks into his eyes and he looks back. Their movement slows, almost stops, and his gaze falls to her lips, her breath ghosts across his mouth and he lets his eyes close because this is everything he’s been waiting for, everything he’s hoped for for three years and it’s finally happening. She’s an inch away, and it’s finally happening.

[lady_bols]

His breath is warm on her lips, and it feels like her heart is racing a thousand miles an hour. How many nights has she dreamed of this chance, this one moment? How long has she been fighting herself, telling herself this is a mistake, that it will destroy their working relationship? How long has she been trying to convince herself that that kiss in his mother's sitting room didn't mean anything?

Oh she was wrong, so very wrong. And glad of it, in this moment. In this moment, he is all she wants, and want is a very pale word for the emotion roaring in her head.

Which is why the sharp three knocks at the door literally steals her breath away.

[the_gene_genie]

But of course.

Of course.

He breathes out, and swallows, trying to get a handle on himself and tamp down the flare of anger at the same time. Why can’t the world just sod off for One Bloody Night. Half an inch, less, from finally getting there and...this.

He lets go of her hand, but doesn’t step away. She might (won’t) ignore the knock. It could be important (he knows who it is); all he can do is hope the moment isn’t lost, and she’ll come back to him.

[lady_bols]

'Go on.' There's an urgency in her voice, almost a plea. 'Wait in the bedroom, I'll get rid of them.'

God, what now? What could possibly be so important that it justifies pounding on someone's flat door at 2 o'clock in the morning? She tucks her hair behind her ears, her thoughts skittering madly from one disaster to another. (And she knows who it is; how could she not?) Just -- how to get rid of him. How to make this right again?

She's still thinking the evening is salvageable when she opens the door...