For some love is simple. A certain person appears in your life and that's it. No more searching. For most it is messy; a complicated weighing of pros and cons - fights, blissful moments, and everything between, forcing you to decide what you can liv...
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Once someone's hurt you, its harder to relax around them, harder to think of them as safe to love. But it doesn't stop you from wanting them.
– Holly Black – White Cat
Movie night was almost without incident. Izzy was watching Max – "Moster and I are making monster cupcakes." – he decided he didn't want to ask particulars on that point, just settle for the knowledge that the Little Man was being doted upon by his godmother and having a sugar-fueled blast.
The movie was something he'd been meaning to watch but hadn't found the time. Max's mother, likewise, had been busy with work, not to mention that one can't very well watch a 12 rated movie with a five year old in the house. Particularly not withtheir five year old, who would adopt all the words he shouldn't be saying into his vocabulary and chirp them out every chance he got.
Truthfully, though, Tom has only paid half a mind to the movie. He's gotten accustomed her close proximity again, or maybe accustomed isn't the proper term for it. He's figured out how to distract himself from the urge he always feels in her presence – or at least satisfy himself with whatever contact she's willing to offer and then deal with his desires once she's safely away. His shower and bedroom is seeing lots of action, but only with an occupancy of one.
They started out seated side by side on the sofa, a bowl of popcorn wedged between them and resting atop a small pillow. The popcorn was gone halfway through the movie, the bowl relegated to the coffee table a short while after. Two thirds of the way through the movie she'd stretched out, tucking her legs beneath a throw blanket and resting her head on the pillow that had worked its way partially into his lap. After that he could only focus on not fidgeting, for the benefit of her comfort, and figuring out how to not think about how he'd like nothing better than to say fuck the movie.
He'd lasted all of ten minutes before the situation became problematic. At least the pillow was in place. He could – he could excuse himself for the need to use the toilet, or to offer to refill her drink – do his best to quietly relieve matters before potentially ruining the night. Not that they're not both adults and once upon a time had been intimately familiar with every inch of the other's anatomy, but they've not yet dared for anything more than limited contact – short hugs and the occasional lingering touch. Remaining chaste while they're each testing the waters of this attempt at reconnection seems to be mutually agreed upon.
She's probably dealing with it much in the same way as he is... a thought which doesn't help his current predicament in the slightest. Makes it worse, actually. That's all the blood-flow heading south, preventing him from keeping a straight head. Tom clicks his tongue in annoyance, shifting again in preparation for his charade of wine refills.
"Sorry, Tom. Am I making your leg fall asleep?"
The weight on his leg lifts as she moves, propping herself up on one arm to be able to look at him and offering him the chance to get away clean. He quickly adjusts the pillow and how he's seated to continue to block her view of his lap. "Erm. No. I might – refill? Popcorn? Wine?"
