Choking On Sapphires

40 Future Starts Slow (NSFW)

You had been excited a mear hour and a half ago, but now you were standing in the corner, arms crossed across your chest with your lip between your teeth. Since when did you feel lonely? And in a room full of people? You chew your cheek and wonder if you're just moody from whichever point in your cycle you're in. You thought that maybe getting out by yourself, mixing among the socialites and upper class might make you feel empowered. You'd gotten all tarted up for no one but yourself and as soon as you'd started a conversation with the other party goers you'd had to hold in your heavy sighs at their words.

The women's heads seemed full of air, only gossiping about other people, nothing of any weight to be said. The men's pick up lines were atrocious and some downright nasty, uninspired and delivered with zero charisma. You find yourself unamused and uninspired and not wanting to be there. So you stare into the tower of delicately balanced champagne flutes, sigh after sigh, disappointing conversation to disappointing conversation, and you place the glass back down on the table. You hear a loud booming laugh of a man, swinging your head to see, your brain telling you it might be Alfie, but alas, it's not.

You tuck your purse under your arm and head for the door. You find yourself for the first time leaving a party early and being happy about it. You're already relieved as you slide into your car, you lie back your head and realize the best conversation you could be filling your time with would be at home, so that's where you'd rather be.

Alfie's nose is in a book, little gold glasses atop it as it twitches, his eyes blinking as he hears your car coming up the lane. He'd expected you to be out all night, you'd been so excited about the party earlier he found it strange behavior. He knew if anything was wrong that you'd come and tell him, so he chooses to continue reading and be patient.

Your feet aren't light as you walk into the study. You spin and flop dramatically onto the couch next to Alfie, causing him to grunt and look over at you. Your shoulders are slumped, lips pouted and face annoyed.

"Somefin' wrong, luv?" he says quietly, lowering his glasses as your eyes move over to meet his.

"No." you sigh.

He lets out a huff of a laugh. "Not very convincing, that." he grins with a nod of his head at you.

"I was having a miserable time at the party. Everyone was so...boring." you say with a twist of your chin.

"Well that's high society for ya." he agrees, a small shrug of his shoulders.

"I realized I'd rather be home." one corner of your mouth pulls back in a small smile at him. "And now that I'm back I plan on washing the makeup and mediocrity off of me in a nice long bath." Your eyes move to his hair, fluffy and messy and clearly recently washed. "I see you've already taken one tonight." Your voice sounds disappointed. This doesn't go unnoticed by him as he watches your eyelashes flutter as they move over his hair.

"Yeah, I got it over wif." His voice matches yours, soft in its delivery as he watches your face. It falls slightly, moving to your dress before you gather it in your hands to stand.

"You know where to find me if you need me, Fie." You say in an exhale, giving him a small smile as you look back at him over your shoulder before leaving the room.

So you'd rather be home with him and you'd planned on having a bath with him are the unanticipated thoughts behind his blinking eyes. He finds them fluttering like yours, and that much he'll acknowledge. But the fluttering in his stomach, and more importantly his chest that the confessions made him feel bring him to his feet without so much as a second thought as they find their way to you.
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Your eyes are closed, hidden by the steaming hot washcloth over your face. Your head leaned back on the edge of the tub, facing him as he quietly pads his way into the bathroom. The window is cracked only slightly, letting the sounds of the night in. You've forgone electric lights and set up candles in the room and bedroom, he'd seen you do this once before, but now he understood it as a way that you romanced yourself. You'd claimed it calmed you, saying everything looked softer, easier to deal with in candlelight. But with the sounds he'd heard you making with yourself on that night, after passing your door much later in the evening, he knew you were doing more than that with the dreamily lit environment you'd created. Perhaps he could make it so you didn't have to do any romancing or touching of yourself on your own anymore.